And So It Goes
by Kiyoko Michi
Summary: Something is wrong. The Lair is in shambles, his brothers are gone, and Don can't even remember how he got here. This isn't how it was supposed to be... A SAINW AU
1. Gone

And So It Goes

- Kiyoko Michi

**Summary**- Something is wrong. The Lair is in shambles, his brothers are gone, and Don can't even remember how he got here. What the shell happened here? (A SAINW AU)

**Disclaimer**- This is what fanfiction is all about- taking someone _else's_ incredible, underdeveloped idea and running with it. …

~.*.~

Now, when I myself hear that somebody is dead, I simply shrug and say what the Tralfamadorians say about dead people, which is "So it goes".

- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

~.*.~

To Don, it was as if the world was falling apart, and him with it. He could deal with the unbelievable vertigo, the blurring and falling and twisting, but something was just _wrong_. It was almost like an uncontrollable fall, but he couldn't feel wind or movement and he'd already been falling for much too long. If this had been real, he would have been long dead. Instead, it was as if the entire world was being shifted- everything moving, _changing_ around him. And he was helpless to stop it. He couldn't see anything clearly anymore, couldn't _think _with the unfamiliar something pressing against him_. _ He tried to call out for his brothers, but he couldn't even hear his own voice. They had been with him, _must _have been with him, but there was nobody there anymore and nothing he could do to control the convoluted spinning.

And then it stopped. He landed (but it wasn't landing, not when he hadn't truly been falling in the first place- more as if the world finally clicked back into place) so suddenly that the solid ground abruptly under his feet almost threw him onto the floor. As it was, he could just barely stop himself from retching from the sudden shift. And when he finally regained control of himself, he almost wished he hadn't. He was still in the Lair, still where he'd started, but… not. This wasn't his home.

The lair was in shambles. Don could only stare blankly at the sight. It was definitely their Lair. He could easily see that in the twist of the now dry river cutting through the floor and the signs of his brothers' presence, like the broken piles of TVs that they'd once used. But it had been a long time since anyone had been there, and the neglect was obvious.

Don slowly turned around, mouth gaping as he took in the changes. The lair looked… crumpled. If he hadn't been so familiar with his home, he probably wouldn't have even recognized the place. Nothing was intact, not even the walls. Piles of material that were once part of the walls or ceiling or furniture lay heaped carelessly on the floor, the results of what looked like an enormous battle. A moment later, he saw where a large part of the material had come from. There was a large, gaping hole stretching across what used to be part of the wall and ceiling. It looked as if something had ripped its way through the very stone to reach the Lair. Knowing how powerful their enemies had become, the possibility wasn't as farfetched as he'd have like.

Don took a few steps closer to the hole, dodging the scattered material to reach its jagged edges. He couldn't see any of the tell-tale signs of an explosive or corrosive material, the obvious way it could have been made. There was no blackened or melted stone around the tear; only a large pile of what should have been the wall lying in front of it. It truly looked as if some giant thing had torn its way through the wall with only brute force, impossible as the idea should have been. For something or someone that strong to have found the lair, his family must have-

Don froze, thunderstruck. His family… Shell, what had happened to his family? Someone had attacked the Lair, the resultant fight ending with the destruction of their home. His brothers must have fought; the lair was too ruined to mean anything else, but he couldn't tell who had won. His eyes passed almost unwillingly around the room again, seeing signs he'd missed the first time around.

The couch had been cut clean in two in what he recognized as the work of a sword, and he could see thin nicks in the wall he knew to be the same. As he made his way carefully through the ruined room, he found himself wishing their weapons left more distinctive marks. If he could see that, he'd at least know they'd all been prepared enough to put up a good fight against whatever it was. As it was… he couldn't be sure.

A glint of metal caught his eye, and he reached down to pick up an old, unfamiliar kunai. He carefully touched the end of the blade, his hand shaking slightly as dry flakes of blood so old as to be nigh unrecognizable fell to the ground. One of them had been hurt… and he could see more hints of blood around him. Slightly discolored streaks on the walls, small spatters at odd intervals on the floor… it was faint, but it was there. Don knew it couldn't all be from his family, but some of it undoubtedly was. What had happened to them?

Don put a steadying hand on a nearby table, one of the few things still intact in the room, then flinched back at the unexpected feeling under his fingertips. Raising his hand, he saw that his fingers were now coated with… dust? There was a thick layer of dust covering the tabletop and, looking back over the room, he could see dust he'd overlooked earlier coating the rest of the room. It was thick and undisturbed, save where he'd been walking earlier. Numerous other signs of time passed also revealed themselves to him.

A nearby, collapsed chair, which he had assumed broken by whatever battle had taken place, also showed unmistakable signs of decay, the wood sagging from rot. Rust covered numerous broken piping and wiring, supplies he'd constantly inspected for signs of degeneration and had known to be good not long ago.

For the dust to be so thick, the supports so rotten… this didn't just happen overnight. He could have missed a battle, could have been unaware for the hour or so his brothers had been battling for their life, but for the Lair to look as abandoned as it did… it would take a lot more time than Don could accept had passed. It was impossible… just this _morning_ he'd been… he'd been…

He'd been what? Don slowly sank to the floor, clutching his head. He couldn't remember… He couldn't _remember_ what he'd been doing this morning, why he'd been gone when the fight had taken place. Shell, he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten back into the lair in the first place. The first thing he could clearly remember was his first glimpse into the ruined Lair and before that… he didn't know. It was just… blank.

Don held his head tighter, fighting to remember. He saw a faint glimpse of something, a half remembered thought and a faint feeling of vertigo and _something _being horribly wrong. He grasped the thin tendril of memory eagerly, trying to follow it back to something he could use, some answer. He was so close… and then it was gone. The recollection, faint as it had been, fell away from his mental grasp, and even the feeble, half remembered sensation faded away. Don let out a soft groan of frustration at the loss- he'd been so _close… _

Don let the frustration take hold for a moment, then forced it to bleed away. If he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here… then maybe he could remember something from the other direction. He sharpened his mind again, focusing this time on what had happened this morning (or, at least, the last morning he could clearly remember). It felt as if the entire morning was muffled, shrouded in a thick fog he could barely see through.

It had been a normal day, he could remember that much. He could vaguely recall getting up as usual, eating breakfast, training… everything had been fine up to that point. Then… _something_ had happened. His memory started to break apart, the fog growing thicker, but… he could remember being completely shocked, caught completely off guard by… and that was it. It was as if he'd run into a thick mental wall- everything was black after that point, _missing._

He pushed desperately at the wall, straining to find a way around it, and was rewarded with a brief flash of dark green, the worried, determined eyes of his immediate older brother staring at him from behind a red mask, before the wall clamped down again. Try as he might, he couldn't break through again.

Don let his head thump back against the wall behind him. "What the shell is wrong with me," he whispered softly, flinching slightly as the sound of his own voice split the thick silence covering the Lair. He was supposed to be the smart one, supposed to be the one _with _the answers, and he couldn't even remember what had happened to his family. How was he supposed to find them? Why wasn't he with them in the first place? He knew his family would never leave him behind… but what if they hadn't had a choice? They could have been captured or separated or (he shuddered at the thought) killed, and he had no way of knowing. Not with his mind so messed up he couldn't even remember anything.

Yet… he had remembered _something. _ That flash of Raph's face… he looked like he was in a fight, keeping an eye on him like he always did. Combined with the faint feelings of surprised horror he could remember, was his memory blank part of the fight that had destroyed the Lair?

Don's eyes flickered around the Lair again, but there was no way for him to tell if he'd been fighting in the battle. The idea fit, and it was reassuring to have figured out at least one part of the memory blank he'd been struggling with, and that he hadn't somehow abandoned his family during the fight. But he still had no idea what had happened to his brothers, or why the destruction of the Lair seemed so old…

Don let in a sharp gasp as the weight of what the memory blanks could mean hit him. There was a large chunk of his memory missing for an unknown reason and, judging from the decrepit state of his home, a lot of time had passed. For all he knew, years could have gone by. Years that he couldn't remember, and who knew what had happened to _him_ during that time. How _old _was he now? How much had he forgotten?

Don stumbled out of his crouched position on the floor, eyes locking on what had once been the bathroom. He needed a mirror… he _needed _to know what had happened to him, how much of his life the memory blank had wiped out. As he forced his way through the debris holding the door closed, his mind raced with possibility after possibility of what could have changed. Yet, as he finally managed to clear the way to the cracked mirror inside, he was met with the familiar, scared face of a sixteen year old mutant turtle, not the unknown, scarred adult form he was half expecting.

Don twisted halfheartedly in front of the mirror, searching for any new scars or unfamiliar changes, but he seemed exactly as he expected himself to look. He slumped in relief- whatever had happened to the lair, whatever had happened to his brothers, he was still the same.

So he was left with the exact same questions. There was almost more, now that he had ruled out the obvious answer for the decaying state of the Lair. It just didn't make sense… how could all this have possibly happened in such a short amount of time? He needed answers. He needed to find his _brothers; _everything else was secondary compared to that.

Turning away from the mirror, Don walked slowly back to the main room. His eyes swept over the room one last time, but nothing new jumped out at him. His eyes hesitated for a moment at the top of the staircase, where his brothers' rooms lay, but he continued past. His brothers had definitely carried the fight into the main room regardless of where they'd been during the attack, and he doubted the old, half ruined staircase could support his weight regardless.

His gaze finally stopped on the elevator, one of the few things that looked as if it was still capable of working. There was nothing else he could do here, nowhere else he could look. The only place for him to find the answers he needed would be Topside. Don slowly made his way over to the elevator but, just before he reached to open it, he paused. Someone had obviously tracked them to the Lair. Someone that was strong enough to destroy it, injuring his brothers in the process. He doubted someone like that would just fade away or forget about his family, no matter how much time he'd forgotten. So what types of traps or monitoring technology had they set?

His family would have at least tried to return to their former home to recover keepsakes, like the last time the Mousers had driven them out of their home. Most of their enemies would have known that, or at least suspected. And if they had set up monitoring devices, the logical place would be at the common entry and exit points. It was all too possible that the warehouse exit or the elevator itself could be some form of a trap.

Besides, there was another, lesser known exit that he knew of. One he hadn't even informed his family about, let alone hinted at to their enemies. He'd discovered the half hidden tunnel in his lab during the early days in the Lair, an old, rickety shaft leading to the back area beside the warehouse. He'd thought it may have been a hidden back door, a sort of contingency plan by the previous inhabitants. After he fixed it up a bit, Don had used it to silently get out of the lair at night without bothering anyone. There was a minimal chance of anyone knowing it existed and, until he knew more about what was going on, Don wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks.

The door to his lab was harder to open then he'd expected- time had rusted the hinges closed, creating an earsplitting shriek as it was forced open for the first time in who knew how long. After the destruction of the main room, Don was caught off guard by how whole the room seemed. Age had nearly destroyed the lab, but it had escaped the utter ruin of the main rooms.

Ignoring the old clutter, Don walked over to the worn stone hatch hidden in the shadows at the back of the room. The stone yielded easier than the door, and the passageway was in better condition than he'd expected. After a brief test, he started climbing.

It was a short climb, and Don soon emerged into the mostly familiar dead end pathway. It was darker than he remembered and dirtier, but the large building beside him cast a familiar shadow hiding the alleyway. He looked back at their warehouse, feeling an increasingly familiar wave of shock pass through him. It was a good thing he hadn't continued through the elevator…

The warehouse was in possibly the worst state he'd ever seen a building in before. Large holes, some looking to have been from bullets or explosives, stretched the length of the structure, negating any cover the building should have had. It was hard to tell from where he stood, but it seemed as if rust and degenerated material had caused parts of the roof and walls to fall down, creating untended piles of rubble. The shadows of the nearby building didn't even fully cover the broken mess- he would have been all too visible inside. Honestly, with the rusted state it was in, it should have been torn down long ago. As if he needed another sign that something wasn't right.

Although…already, something else was jumping out at him for being _wrong_. It was far too quiet for a New York street, even during the night. The streets were completely empty, with not even the occasional car passing by. He could barely even hear anything in the distance. Coming from the city that never slept, it seemed as if his home wasn't the only thing that had changed dramatically from his memory.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a helicopter blade shattered the silence and, almost before he realized it, Don had sprung to the side of the alley, melding into the shadows. A searchlight swept passed seconds later, narrowly missing the alleyway, followed by the rumble of a surge of cars blurring past. Thankfully, the patrol continued on without pausing, its noise fading slowly into silence again.

"What… the _shell_ was that," Don whispered, his eyes still staring at where the cars had disappeared. He remained hidden for a few moments more before cautiously standing up and walking to the center again, thinking. It had almost looked like a patrol… The way the searchlight was probing the darkness without any clear goal and how official it all seemed. It reminded him of the military

The eerie silence seemed to take on a sinister undertone. Something was _seriously _wrong here. He could probably come up with a thousand possible explanations for what was going on, each more outlandish than the last, but that would be a waste of time. He needed real, solid facts. He needed to find out what had actually happened, who those people actually were.

Don made his way over to a nearby fire escape and started climbing- he'd need the roofs if he was going to move around easily. It was time to figure out what was going on.

.

~.*.~

**AN**- I have no clue what I'm doing. None. I'm a teenager who only recently rediscovered writing, and this is the first time I've attempted anything longer than a one-shot. Also, the plot is a bit… uncertain as of now. I have the basic history and most of the major plot created, but I'm still looking for more things. So random ideas/what you'd like to see (assuming you actually like this enough to keep reading) are welcome. Half formed thoughts (explosives!), random sub plots (poison someone!), or characters (LH!) _will_ help me with planning/writing. I'm mostly writing this because I personally was disappointed with the SAINW episode, so I'd like to know what other people liked/didn't like about the episode. Regardless of my confusion, I will do my best to finish this- I already have the second chapter half finished (I was spazzing too much to put this up when I first finished it).

I'd also appreciate mentions of writing style, since I'm pretty much just experimenting with styles right now. Was I too wordy, not descriptive enough, repetitive, bad dialogue/thoughts/OOC-ness, choppy, and so on. And please tell me if I get facts or stuff like that wrong. Flames are, as always, welcome.

The title is a reference to a reoccurring quote from the novel Slaughterhouse Five, a classic book about death, war, and free will. I thought it fit.


	2. Lost

And So It Goes

-Kiyoko Michi

~.*.~

Why _you_? Why _us_ for that matter? Why _anything_? Because this moment simply _is… _There is no _why._

- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

~.*.~

The city seemed… cold. Empty. He'd only been running on the rooftops for a few minutes, but already the city was startlingly unfamiliar. The life and energy he'd always loved about his city was missing. Nobody was outside, no civilian car or stray person. He couldn't even hear or see people going about their daily lives inside the buildings, which would have been obvious before. It seemed almost… dead. Despite the disappearances of the smaller, normal activities, it was the new shape of the city that disturbed him the most.

The familiar New York skyline had been almost completely replaced. Instead of skyscrapers and buildings, the horizon was dominated by large, jutting factories. Their jagged smokestacks had even managed to destroy the sky, covering his city in a thick haze. He could even _smell _the smoke everywhere- a thick, cloying stench. He passed close to one of the factories, but there were no windows or hint of what the factory was making. Even so, it was the only building with even a hint of movement about it. Despite the late hour, the factories were still working towards whatever goal they had, the smokestacks still spewing their smoke.

The factories were the only untouched buildings as well. Although none of the buildings still standing were in near as bad a condition as the warehouse had been, nearly all of them had been visibly broken in some way. Chunks were missing from the sides and some looked to have suffered small collapses from structural damage, forcing him to carefully watch his step as he ran. Few of the windows were unbroken. Some of the holes had been flimsily covered up, most not at all. And so many of them looked empty…

Don paused in his inspection as the rooftop route he was trying to follow abruptly stopped. What should have been a slightly lower residential building had been replaced with one of the sprawling factories. It was too high and too far away to jump without equipment he didn't have. Looking around, he tried to recalculate another possible path to get to April's store...

After what he'd seen of the city, he knew it was impossible that he would be able to find April still living normally in her apartment. He couldn't shake the mental image of the carefree nights they'd spent in her home, and he was dreading what he would find there. He didn't want to see another loved place destroyed. But he had to go there. He needed to make _sure _that April was gone, and it was the only place he could think of to find information on his brothers. A note, a sign… _something_. Hopefully he'd be able to find some clue to what had happened as well.

Thankfully, although Don couldn't immediately recognize the buildings anymore, the streets still had the same layout. If he followed this road, then took a left he should be-

He stilled as his ears picked up the faint sound of something unfamiliar heading towards him. Scanning the skies, he quickly crouched in the shadow of a nearby outcropping, his skin blending in with the darkness. It had sounded as if it had come from overhead, but he couldn't place the sound- it wasn't the cut of blades like the helicopter or the loud rumble of a plane or any of the other noises he was familiar with.

The moon reflected off a glint of metal and his eyes finally fixed upon a group of dark shapes he'd nearly overlooked against the night sky. They were smaller than he'd expected, and vaguely human shaped. Their size explained the lack of noise, and it looked almost like a suit adapted for flight… The scientist in him was practically salivating at the concept. The _technology _it would have taken to develop that… if he could get his hands on one of those suits…

Don let his mind wander into the calculations and technology the suit would use… the scientific _breakthroughs_ there must have been to create it. Then he forced his mind back to the present, away from the machinery and the faint accompanying feeling of dread from the amount of time it would have taken to develop. It would be too dangerous to completely space out here, no matter how much he wanted to.

Instead, he focused on the figures themselves. They were in a familiar, tactical pattern he recognized- definitely another patrol, albeit a new kind of one. He'd definitely have to be more careful of this one; it wasn't near as obtrusive as the helicopter and vehicles had been. It would be much too easy to be caught off guard by one of these. He kept his eyes on the figures as they moved closer, but they only continued what appeared to be a routine sweep.

His breath caught as one of the figures turned just enough for the moonlight to catch on the bottom of the shape. The shadows bent in just the wrong way at the center, the unnatural angles enough to send up warning flags. Yet… it was oddly familiar… Don's eyes widened as he managed to make the connection.

"Utroms…" Don whispered in surprise, "but… how?" The Utroms had all left after the Transmat fiasco, but it was definitely the same human shaped machine they'd used to get around. Honestly, it was so obvious he should have made the connection as soon as he'd noticed the shape. If he focused, he could almost make out part of the shadowy shape of the Utrom inside as well.

They were definitely Utroms, but… why had they returned? When? And why where _they _helping to patrol the city? He had trouble imagining the Utrom's he'd become familiar with having anything to do with what had befallen his city, but he would be the first to admit he wasn't an expert on them by any stretch of the imagination.

The Utroms had seemed peaceful, but then again he had only met the small group of them. After all, the Shredder had been one of them as well. For all he knew, there was some rebellious faction that had joined in whatever had overtaken the city. And the Shredder… he could definitely be a part of this. He had originally come from the Utrom homeworld, and he could easily have had followers. If he'd managed to gain contact with those underlings… transfer them and their technology here… it opened up too many dangerous possibilities. Utrom technology used as a weapon here… it wasn't something he wanted to think about, especially in the Shredder's hands.

Don let out a slight chuckle at his train of thought- he'd only seen some Utroms fly by, and he was already connecting all this to one of the Shredder's conspiracies. He needed to make sure he didn't make too many assumptions on such little information- the Utrom's presence only raised more questions, not answers. Assumptions could get him killed. They might be connected, but no guarantee. And… _shell _he hoped this wasn't the Shredder's doing. If this had anything to do with him, things just got a lot more complicated. The Utrom patrol soon faded out of sight, and Don resumed his run.

He continued through the repetitive, barren streets for a few moments, avoiding the frequent patrols whenever they got neared him. At one point an entire, long line of soldiers cut through the sky for minutes on end, the sheer number of Utroms startling him as they passed. This had to be _way _more than one small faction of the Utroms… As he started to skirt near the center of the city, the patrols both on sky and foot increased.

That was when he saw the blimp.

After seeing the destruction of the lair, of the city, he hadn't thought he could be caught completely stunned by anything else this new world had to throw at him. So, of course, he had nearly fallen down in astonishment as he saw the giant visage of the Shredder's mask on the side of the aircraft. Then he'd laughed.

A… giant blimp. It was so over the top, so ridiculous and melodramatic and obvious, and it even had pro-Shredder propaganda running across the bottom of the screen. What really struck him was how _useless _the thing seemed. There was nobody outside to see it, and the people inside probably wouldn't need the reminder to remember. Then again, the Shredder always had been one for the dramatics…

So… this was the Shredder's fault. Suddenly, it didn't seem quite as funny anymore. Shell… Of _course _this had to be the work of the most powerful, connected, _dangerous, _enemy they'd ever faced. Their only enemy with such a grudge against his family. And not only had he found their Lair (because, really, who else could it be), but he'd apparently managed to take control of New York as well. Aside from finding his brothers, figuring out what had happened here was the most important thing. When and how this had happened, about the citizens, and how far the Shredder's reach extended. He needed to find out whether it was just New York or farther, and, if it _was_ just NY, why the rest of the US or the world hadn't stopped it.

He needed to find where a resistance would be.

From what he could see, things were bad here. He didn't know how bad, but the city was practically in ruins and the people hidden. Someone must have resisted, and someone must be fighting. If he knew his brothers, then that was where they would be. The only problem would be finding them. Knowing Leo's near-paranoia, he would make sure whatever organization there is was heavily guarded and hidden. Casey and April… hopefully they were with them too, and unhurt. His family would never willingly leave them behind. _Just as they'd never leave me? _A quiet voice inside him whispered, but he resolutely pushed that thought to the back of his head. He _knew _his brothers better than that.

He was almost at April's home by then, only a street away. With the constant dodging of patrols, it had taken longer than normal. From what he could see of the sky, he guessed that a large portion of the night had already past- it had probably already been nearing midnight when he first regained consciousness. As he turned into her street and the buildings became visible, Don's run started to slow, legs gradually slowing into a shaky stop.

It… it was gone. The entire building had been destroyed, along with most of the surrounding structures. Instead, one of the copious factories had been built where the store had once stood. He sat down hard on the nondescript building he was on, still staring at the factory. Well… crap. There goes that option. Don let out a hollow laugh, but it sounded too much like a sob for his liking. He… shell, he was in trouble.

His home was gone, his family was gone, April was gone, and almost definitely Casey too. He was practically lost inside his own city, which he had to keep reminding himself to think of as enemy territory. The Shredder had taken control. He couldn't even remember what had happened. And he. Didn't. Know. What. To. _Do. _April's place… he hadn't realized how much he'd been depending on finding something there. Some clue, some hint of where he could find them or what had happened… but it was completely gone. There was nothing there for him either.

Don didn't know how long he stayed there, his mind blissfully blank as he just stared at the building. Plans would occasionally start to form, then almost immediately dissolve under the weight of the unknown. He'd never felt this _lost _before. There had always been his brothers there, his father… even when he'd been separated from them he'd at least had some clear goal of what he was supposed to do, how to get back to them.

Shell, even when the Triceratrons had captured him, he'd known he just had to resist and his brothers would come. He'd been able to contact his Father then too… He briefly tried to connect with one of them in the astral plane, but he'd never been very good at it, and that failed as well. He _hated _feeling this… this _useless. _

Some time later, at what he estimated at early morning, maybe five or so, he saw the people of the new New York for the first time. At some unspoken signal, the doors to the factory had opened and exhausted people had walked out. The streets had seemed to fill up with people for a brief time as well, shuffling along on their path. Several more figures broke off from the masses in the street and entered the factory; the next shift. Everyone was walking, the streets and sidewalks congested with no vehicles in sight. It was… strange. All those people, and it was still so silent… The people seemed different too. They walked with their heads down, as if bowed by some incredible weight they'd given up on throwing off. Their clothes looked ragged, and even from his high perch and poor lighting he thought they looked gaunt. There were few conversations among them.

The mass of people gradually trickled out, and by the time twenty minutes had elapsed the streets were empty again. Don sat there for a while longer, intermittently thinking and just staring at the streets. He didn't come up with anything worthwhile.

Eventually, he noticed the blackness of night beginning to lighten. He stood up, stretching out the aches and kinks from sitting on the cold roof for so long. Gradually, he turned around and started to retrace his steps, heading back to his old home. The Lair was the safest place he knew of right now- it was sheltered, and nobody else had entered it in a long time. There was a spare cot in his lab he could sleep in, maybe some old cans that would still be edible. He could stay there until he resumed his search after nightfall. There had to be _something _else in the city he could find. Maybe if he looked closer at the Lair, checked rooms he hadn't entered, he'd be able to find a clue there as well.

He didn't know what else to do.


	3. Carpe Diem

And So It Goes

-Kiyoko Michi

~.*.~

_Carpe Diem._

Seize the Day

~.*.~

Don watched as the factory continued working, the only living thing in a city of noiselessness. The silence… he didn't think he'd ever truly get used to the muteness surrounding his city. He'd had two weeks to get accustomed to the changes, but seeing his city so _wrong _still struck him every time he went out. Two weeks… it was hard to believe that two weeks had passed, and he still had next to nothing to show for it.

After his first night in the city, he'd taken to wandering the city without a real destination. He was always keeping an eye out for any information or danger but mostly just exploring the new facets of the city and seeing just how much had changed. Nearly everything had. He'd picked up on the smaller changes in the streets his first night, but it wasn't until later that he really noticed how much the _shape _of his city had changed. Not only the streets had become unrecognizable, but the famous symbols of the city as well. Eventually, even without really looking, he'd stumbled upon what remained of the famous landmarks. Some had been converted for the Shredder's use, others just destroyed. After he found Lady Liberty missing from the bay, he'd spent at least an hour next to the dark water in solemn remembrance for everything lost.

Regardless of where he'd traveled, very little had changed from place to place. People came and went for a handful of moments twice a day, and the rest of the time was eclipsed by silence. Only the factories and constant patrols made any real noise. If nothing else, the patrols were effective. He had yet to see any civilian outside of the designated times, which meant he hadn't seen any criminals either. Whether that was because small time crime had actually stopped under the Shredder's regime or had simply become more subtle in response, he didn't know. Regardless, Don hadn't been able to find any sign of the rebellion in the empty streets.

In desperation, he'd started listening to the occasional snippets of conversation during the brief time the civilians were on the streets. Too many only walked in a stifled silence, but he had heard the occasional whispered conversation. It was… disheartening to see the people of New York so crumpled. It would have taken a long time for the people to lose their hope and spirit, to become so resigned.

The highlight of his search had come a week after he woke up. He'd chanced upon a hushed, hurried conversation half-hidden in one of the dark alleys. They were the first people he'd come across who sounded determined, and they stood strong and tall where he was used to bowed shoulders. The huddle had broken up almost as soon as he noticed it, but he'd made out the sound of some sort of plan or mission. His heart had jumped at the first true hint of a rebellion, but nothing had come of it. He'd tried to follow them, but the members had quickly gotten themselves lost in the mass of people with an ease of long practice.

Still, it had been the best feeling he'd felt since he'd first arrived. Finally, _finally, _he had found _something_. Even though he hadn't found a hint of the group or whatever they'd been conspiring about, there was finally proof that there was a resistance in New York. Even if it was so well hidden he had little chance of stumbling upon it, it existed.

At night he kept looking in the city, but the day was a different story. He had continued returning to his old home after dawn to hide. The Lair… it had been as hard as he'd thought to keep looking through it. It had been his home… and it was completely destroyed. At first, he'd put off going upstairs, choosing to look through the less personal sections of their home first Instead, he spent the time making the other parts of the Lair livable again instead. He'd been trying to hide from what had happened, had _known _that was what he was doing, but… he didn't want to see it, not so soon. So he'd fixed his lab instead, sorting through what was usable and broken. When he started with the wiring, he'd been pleasantly surprised to find he could still access the utilities for the space.

Eventually, after his lab was done, he'd forced himself to look through the rest of the Lair. There had been a possibility that he could find some new hint of what had happened, and he needed to look into any chance. The rooms had been as bad as he'd expected. He'd tried to brace himself, but it was painful to be reminded of just how long it had been since they'd all been in the Lair, together. He'd been relieved to find there were no sign of an actual fight in the rooms, that his brothers hadn't been caught completely off guard, but that meant all the damage was from time alone. Beds were broken and rotting, furniture collapsed, and random possessions strewn where they had fallen across the floor. He'd searched as quickly as he could while still checking for anything usable. But he hadn't found it. Even everything truly personal had been taken from their rooms, from old masks to photos. It had been a relief to know his family had been able to come back and get them, but that still hadn't helped him.

He almost hadn't gone into his own room at all. It was only a desire to be thorough that had made him stop at his door as he was leaving. He'd been expecting a similar neglect, but the changes had once again surprised him. His room was still destroyed, but… it wasn't from age. Or at least, not just from it. It looked like _somebody_ had just destroyed it… as if somebody had _thrown _his things around the room. The computer had been in pieces on the other side of the room, things that should have been on his desk in a broken pile beside it. There was no way it had been natural, but it hadn't been a fight either. There were no weapon marks, no signs of a struggle, but… it was still ruined.

Next to the wall, almost hidden under the destroyed computer, he'd noticed an old, vaguely familiar book lying haphazardly on the ground. It almost looked like it had been thrown at the wall, then had simply never been picked back up. It was one of Mikey's old journals… the ones he'd kept writing in for as long as he could remember and never let anyone else read. He'd stared at the journal for one heart stopping moment, but to his disappointment, it had been an old one, long before any of this had happened. He'd almost thrown it down himself before he saw the note inside

It was cracked and yellow and he'd barely seen it sticking haphazardly out of a corner of the novel. It had been Mikey's, he recognized that handwriting even as illegible as most of it had been, but… it hadn't _sounded _like Mikey. Not the carefree, innocent little brother he remembered. Reading it, it seemed more like something Raph would write after one of his explosions. The words were jagged, running into and on top of other letters as they cut across the page. And what they'd said… age had blurred most of it, but from what he could make out… It was a rant, about pain and anger and fights and breaking apart. Mikey had been _hurting _when he wrote it. He'd read through it carefully for any sign about himself, but there wasn't anything about him. That in itself was worrying, almost as much as the tone had been.

He still had that note with him, and he doubted he would ever let it out of his sight. Not only was it an incredibly personal thing for Mikey, but it was one of the few connections he'd found to what had happened, no matter how vague. He still knew far too little for the weeks he'd been searching.

He knew something had happened to him.

He knew time had passed.

He knew the Shredder had gained control of New York, and probably more.

And he _knew_ there was nothing else to find wandering in New York. He'd had enough of just waiting for something to happen- it was time for him to find out for himself. And he was going to start with the factories. The clearest symbol of the Shredder's rule, and the easiest place to get information quick. Don smirked lightly at the nearby factory. Breaking in was reckless to the point of stupidity, but it felt _so_ good to finally have a plan.

He was banking on the possibility that the large number of factories and lack of overt resistance meant the building would be poorly guarded. So far, it looked like he was right. He'd been staking out this factory for a few nights, but the only security he'd seen was an old fashioned security camera and lock on the door. The rooftop entrance itself was just a metal door inlaid in one of the rooftop outcroppings, a lonely camera sweeping back and forth in front of it. It would be all too easy to get inside. The only problem would be running into unknown security after that…

The camera shifted, and Don jumped to the factory roof, pausing hidden behind one of the large smokestacks. Reaching into an old duffel he'd recovered for the break-in, he took out his lock picks and waited for the camera to turn again. As soon as it did, Don was moving and easily had the door unlocked and open within seconds. The door closed with a final click, leaving him inside with time to spare. Then he got his first look inside the building.

He found himself in a short, dimly lit hallway, the far end disappearing down a small staircase. His first thought was to check for any surveillance, but there was nothing else here. So far as he could see, it was just a blank, dingy hallway. The walls and floor were made almost entirely out of an old, stained metal, and he let out a small grin at the knowledge. He was alone now, the only noise a far off sound of machinery, but the metal flooring would easily alert him to any approaching enemies. Knowing the Foot, they wouldn't even bother trying to move silently. Even if they did, the poor lighting offered more than enough shadows for him to move through unseen. After a second quick check of his surroundings, he soundlessly started moving. Listening carefully for any approaching dangers, Don moved down the stairwell, towards the distant noise and deeper into the building.

He moved as quickly as he reasonably could. Doors led off into dark offices, the feeling of disuse growing as the hallways remained empty. It was close to when the current shift would be ending, but he'd expected to have at least run into a worker by now. This was probably an older, unused section of the building, and it seemed as if the factory had undergone a similar degradation as the rest of the city. With the Shredder in charge, he doubted there would be much funding for repairs or similar mundane acts. A soft whirl and movement alerted him to a functional security camera ahead of him, so the floor wasn't completely abandoned.

It took at least a full minute of movement before he saw his first person. He'd been paying careful attention to where he was in the building, and he estimated he was nearing the area under one of the smokestacks. It wasn't a surprise that this section would be better guarded. He'd been right about the metal floor too- he'd heard the patrol clanging down a nearby hallway long before there'd been any chance of danger. Hidden in a dark corner, he had a good view as the ninja moved past him. They were definitely inexperienced. Young too, and probably just some low leveled grunts who got the dregs of the assignments. They didn't even look around as they passed, not even pretending to be paying any attention to the building. With all the noise they were making, they barely even classified as ninja.

The machinery was close now, enough so that he could feel the sound thrumming under his feet. He didn't pass any more patrols, although he heard some of the civilians wandering about. Harried looking engineers packing up, nondescript workers running around, but nothing that could pose a threat to him.

Up ahead, Don noticed the maze of hallways came to an abrupt end. As he approached the intersection, he slowed. He was here. In front of him was a thick set of double doors, imposing despite their relatively small size, with noise billowing out from behind it. It had to be the entrance to the true factory, his goal for the entire mission. As high off the ground as they were, it likely led off to the catwalks above the factory. The area behind it would undoubtedly be as empty as the corridors behind him, and he'd have a bird's eye view of the entire process. Like the first door he went through it was locked, without even a security camera in front of it. The hallway was empty, the door completely unguarded. Picking the lock was easy, and Don slipped inside the heavy doors.

He didn't notice the silent alarm that flicked on behind him as he passed through the archway, or the old, dusty machines that slowly flickered to life in response.

~.*.~

**AN**- And this is where things start to happen. A short, mostly filler section followed by the first real vaguely action-y scene. I really don't like the filler parts… it's all meh, longer than I wanted it to be, and the scene that got stuck in my head turned out badly. I may make a one shot out of how Mikey's journal got abandoned on the floor though… And, yes, I am completely BS-ing the factory stuff. I tried to Google factory layouts for help, but it just confused me. I'm going to try to update every two-three weeks, but it really depends on how much trouble I'm having with a chapter. Also, something's gonna go boom soon.

Last thing- I created a SAINW forum for anyone interested, because how could FFDN _not _have one on this episode?


	4. Flight

Flight

-Kiyoko Michi

~.*.~

Find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files  
You must follow me, leave this psychedelic factory  
You will find me in the matinee  
The dark of the matinee

-Dark of the Matinee, Franz Ferdinand

~.*.~

It was a weapons factory. Monstrous machines banged more weapons into shape than he'd ever seen before. Guns, bombs, even the occasional tanks were being churned out in the enormous cavern, workers milling about like ants between and around them. As Don watched from his perch high upon the dark catwalk, he numbly noticed how slow the machines and workers were going, much slower than a machine of its size and complexity should have been able to. It was slowing down as he'd expected, preparing for its break between shifts, but… that meant that at full speed, it had to be even worse.

The sheer _magnitude _of what the factory was doing… it was unbelievable. Far more than he'd been expecting. If all the other factories were making the same thing, then what kind of war was the Shredder preparing to fight? What could _possibly_ warrant the firepower he had to be churning out? There _couldn't _be a country on Earth strong enough to need all the weapons to bring down, especially with all the new military advantages the Utroms would-

A sudden flash of insight stole his breath away. It wasn't for Earth… all these weapons, all this firepower, it wasn't meant to conquer a world. No, the Shredder had higher ambitions. He was planning on conquering the _stars_. The Utroms, factories, neglect… a few more of the puzzle pieces clicked into place at the revelation. The number of Utroms that had so confused him, it _was_ more than a small faction. If he was right, if the Shredder had already started his conquests, then it could be the results of an entire _world's _conquest_. _Heck, with all the signs Don'd seen, there was no way the Shredder _hadn't _made contact with the Utrom homeworld. And their technology… shell, with just the Transmat the Shredder had the foundation for an intergalactic assault. And with all those weapons in all of the factories, and all of the years they'd been in production, there was literally nothing else it could be for. Even the total neglect made sense- the Shredder wouldn't have seen the need to preserve a base he would just abandon later.

A shift in the workshop below him drew his attention back to the present, and Don pushed his new revelation to the back of his mind. This was more important. Below him, one of the machines had finally slowed to a stop, the cloud of workers around it starting to disperse. Other machines around it were slowing further as well as their workers shift approached its end. From his estimates, the shop would be empty in less than ten minutes. Good.

He wouldn't want any innocents to be caught up in the explosion.

Don fingered the remaining explosives in his duffel, debating where the best place to set them up would be. He'd already placed a few on the way in, but it would be far more important to destroy this part of the plant, and the storage area for the weapons as well if he had the time to find it. If not, the chain reaction the detonation would set off might even end up doing the job for him. With his new discovery, everything just got even more complicated and, though the destruction of one plant wouldn't make much of a dent in the Shredder's plans, it would still do something. Considering the size of the plant, he'd be willing to bet he'd destroy a decent amount of weaponry. Besides, if a giant explosion didn't draw the attention of the New York rebellion, he doubted anything would.

If he was lucky and everything went according to plan, hopefully he'd be able to find another sign of the Rebellion. At the very least they'd know someone else was fighting and be looking for him as well. The situation was very… inconvenient. The rebellion was too skilled for him to find on his own, yet he couldn't send a true message without revealing himself to the Foot as well. A sign that of his existence was the best he could do. If nothing else, it would at least bring him out of the limbo of the past few weeks. And these explosives would be more than strong enough to destroy even these large machines. He had made them himself, after all.

His mornings had become _very _interesting over the past week. His lab had been kept in decent, or at least reparable, condition and the new junkyards had been well stocked with the type of materials he had needed. After the first inklings of his idea had started to come to him, he'd begun preparing. A few nights had been spent stealthily gathering the needed materials before he'd started working in his newly restored lab. With all the extra hours to fill, he'd had plenty of time to create enough of the small, powerful bombs for his purposes.

Don crept across the deserted catwalk, affixing the charge along the beams of the catwalk and nearby ceiling. Occasionally he was forced to move into the rooftop supports as well to reach the remainder of the room, although the beams offered more than enough of a foothold for him. Afterwards, he looked down at the machines below for a moment before regretfully turning away. It would be better if he could put the explosives near the weaponry machines themselves, but there wasn't even a remotely safe way to get there. The area below was far better lit than the passages he'd used to enter the building, probably for the craftsmen's benefit. Besides, what the bombs themselves didn't destroy, the falling rubble would. Throughout his work he remained alert for any approaching workers, but the catwalk remained thankfully empty.

He continued moving over the room, soon reaching the end of the walkway. Giving one last glance back, he quickly assessed the placement and effects of the bombs before deciding it was the best he could create. He was done in this room, and it was time to move on before his luck turned. There was only one more place he needed to visit before he left; the storage rooms. If he could find them, and had the time to do so, destroying all the stored weaponry would be almost as big a blow as getting rid of the machines used to make them. After another brief check of the room, he moved to the doors and exited the loud room.

The hallway was almost identical to the one he had used to enter the factory. No security measures were visible, and the metallic hall continued identical to the others. He started to run again, mind already racing towards the likely location of storage and paths there, before something in the back of his mind _twinged._

Something wasn't right. Nobody was there, the hallway as empty as always, but his instincts were starting to wake up, screaming at him that something was _off. _Almost without conscience thought, he stopped moving and blended as still as possible into the shadows of the hall. His eyes swept the hallway, looking for the smallest detail out of place that would have caused the change. Yet, everything remained exactly as he'd expected it to look. Still, _something _had caused his senses to sharpen, and he knew better than to ignore such a strong feeling. Experience had taught him that.

His patience paid off as a small clack upon the metal echoed out. Instincts well honed from his constant training had a kunai in his hand and immediately thrown where the noise had come from, halfway up the far wall and a few yards back. Instead of the half expected clang of metal on metal, there was a chink as the weapon slid into a machine instead, cutting through wire and thin metal. As soon as the kunai hit, the contraption flickered into existence. It immediately fell from the wall, flashing in and out of sight until the circuitry completely shut down and it was left motionless.

The thing lay lifeless on the ground, and for a second Don just stood there staring at it. It was obviously Foot, and he detachedly connected it with the technology he'd remembered from before. It almost looked like a modified version of the Mouser, all powerful jaw and slight body, only smaller and less clumsy. Even the tech was familiar, with what had to be a more advanced version of the Tech Nin's tools. A lit red circle on the 'face' of the machine finally blinked out, reminding him almost of a camera…

Don's mind snapped almost painfully fast back into gear, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing out loud. Shell… Oh shell, he was in so much trouble. They'd _found _him, tracked him, _knew where he was right now. _He was immediately running, trading his careful stealth for speed and mentally cursing himself for being so _careless_ to have gotten caught. _Shell, _this was bad. He had no backup, no escape route, not even real knowledge of the Foot technology anymore. Heck, he didn't even have a clue how he'd been found in the first place! How the shell was he supposed to know what signs to watch out for?

Don took a sharp turn around a crossroad in his path, mind racing furiously as he tried to calculate the quickest path out. Going back was a moot point- he'd have to go back through the assembly area again and whatever had given him away in the first place. His best bet would be to find an outer wall, maybe a side door he could unlock if he was lucky. If not, the firepower still in his bag would probably get him outside… and be blatant enough to draw the rest of the Foot right to him.

But he was still far too deep in the building to blow his way out. With how twisted the hallways were and his ignorance of the layout, it would take at least five minutes to make his way to the outer sections. And he did _not _have that kind of time.

He turned into another intersection, sliding slightly at the sudden shift, and was met with a stout contraption directly in the middle of the hall. A red eye in its center flashed briefly at the sudden movement and, as he was still sliding to a stop, seemed to focus on him. Then it started firing. He let out a strangled shout as he narrowly managed to avoid the bullets ricocheted off of the nearby metal. Heart pounding, he quickly scrambled back behind the wall.

The bullets (or whatever they were- from the dented casings on the floor, they weren't like anything he was familiar with) stopped firing as soon as he was out of the machine's direct sight. A ringing silence pressed down on him as the device recalibrated. Then it started moving, with a barely audible creaking, shifting noise.

He sent a quick glance down the hallway again before he moved on. The robot was faster than it appeared, rolling on two sectioned wheels low on its body and already halfway down the hall. Regardless, he'd easily be able to outrun it and get out of range before it turned the corner, and he'd be far more careful now about the other unexpected surprises still moving throughout the building. He was already calculating another probably path when he noticed the staircase.

Right behind where the machine had first stood was a flight of stairs. Nothing normally out of the ordinary, but he'd need to head downward if he wanted to find a new exit. Any intruder would. It had to have been put there to guard it… and he'd be willing to bet similar contraptions would meet him at any other place he'd need to go to escape. If he was going to try to get past it… well, the robots were made to stop normal intruders, not ninja. A well placed kunai would knock it out, but it would also reveal exactly where he was. He wasn't sure how coordinated the machines were, but they, or whatever was controlling them, would gain an advantage if he telegraphed his movements like that. But could it really put him in a worst position than he was in now? Besides, if they didn't want him to head down this path, then it was likely a very good place to go. If nothing else, there wouldn't be as much of the contraptions initially in a 'protected' section. Making his decision, he reached into his bag and turned around the wall.

He only needed a split second to aim the knife. The machine's single eye was just starting to blink, focusing on the sudden movement, as it was neatly bisected into two ragged shards. The red light immediately blinked out, and it stilled. As soon as he was sure it wouldn't start firing again, Don was sprinting down the stairwell and onward. He didn't have much time until they'd regroup.

This time he paid more attention. He could hear the slight scrabbling noise as the machines searched nearby hallways, still mostly above him but the occasional echo reached him from nearby hallways as well. He stayed as far away from those as possible. As he moved, he kept careful track of his location, moving towards where the outer wall would be.

At his new pace, it only took a few more minutes before he reached what he assumed to be the outermost wall. It was the first completely straight hallway he'd seen since his entrance and the only one without the constant locked doors to dark labs or offices. He let out a sigh of relief at reaching at least one possible escape route, no matter how distasteful. Then he continued running.

Concentrating on the layout, he estimated himself to be on the leftmost edge of the building. Outside the wall should be one of the abandoned alleyways, a plus if he decided to blow his way out.

He stopped moving at a sharp noise that echoed in front of him. Upon closer inspection, the clanking was, as expected, more of the machines. Two, specifically, making their way down the hall. He was just considering moving over them when the faint sound of a different clang reached him. He moved back a few steps and got a glimpse down an adjacent hallway, where another one far down was just starting to turn towards him. Thinking back across his impromptu escape, the noises had been slowly getting louder. Closer.

There was no immediate danger, so he moved back a few steps and just planned.

First off, they were smarter than he'd given them credit for. They were moving in some sort of pattern actively trying to pen him in. They weren't just following a set pattern as he'd assumed, but reacting to what he was doing as a group. And that meant they had to have some way of communication, and could lead others to him.

He could take out the robots easily, the weakness of the first one had proved that, but not the ninja who would come after. Not with how many there always were. Heck, if they'd managed to figure out exactly who he was from the first machine, it wasn't very farfetched that they'd send the Elite after him. Don knew his limits, and facing off against the Elite and whatever else they sent was just too much. And… there really wasn't anywhere better for him to go. It had been luck that had led him to the first staircase- asking for more in this maze would be too much. He was already along the outer wall, which was probably the best he could hope for. Guess that meant he'd have to use plan B and hope he was fast enough to escape after the explosion…

Turning around, he ran back to approximately the middle of the trap and started working. It only took a few seconds for him to recalibrate one of the remaining explosives, resetting the timer. Then he only had to step back and wait for the blast. It didn't take long. The detonation was just as thunderously loud as he'd expected, metal screeching as it tore amid the concussive roar of the pressure. A twisted piece of metal flew smoking inches from his shoulder, and he could hear more clanging around the hall. He stumbled as he tried to get up, almost falling down and ears ringing painfully from the force. He had to lean against the wall for a moment, reorienting himself before he could move.

As the spots finally cleared from his eyes, Don got his first good look at the damage. The force of the blast had torn straight through part of the wall. It was jagged around the edges and still smoking from the heat, but he could see the dirty wall of a nearby building through it.

He was out the opening before the first of the machines came into range. The fall was short, no farther than a two-story building, and he was able to adjust his body to the landing and continue running immediately. His earlier guess proved right, as he was able to hear the approaching sounds of a Foot patrol, obvious in the nearly silent city. It was closer than he would have liked, but he would have enough of a head start to get away from the tanks and approaching ninja, the bigger danger.

He cast a mournful look at a nearby manhole and the safe path it should have represented before continuing above ground. The sewers weren't safe for him anymore. One of the first things he'd done upon arriving in this new reality had been checking his home and the nearby sewers for traps. The Lair itself was safe, but he'd barely been able to leave it before he'd run into one of the Shredder's monitoring system. It was primitive, easy for him to disassemble, but they'd been set up to catch anything moving under the city. No doubt taking sections of it out would have sent up red flags, and heading under with them active was out of the question. So he was stuck in the open air, following the twists and turns of back alleys he'd long since memorized as he tried to lose himself in the city.

He'd always made a point to memorize as much of the city as possible, which was why it came as such a shock when he ran into a dead end. What should have been another narrow alleyway, perfect for losing the pursuers he could still hear, was just another dried out old building. The alley had been filled in…

Don let out a low growl as he was forced to turn around, trying to backtrack to the last intersection. He did _not _have time for this! The Foot were almost on top of him, he was completely out of his element, and he couldn't even trust his knowledge of the ci- His thoughts were cut off as he was abruptly blinded by a sudden bright light. Shielding his eyes, he bit back a curse as he saw one of the Foot helicopters silhouetted against the bright searchlight. He hadn't know they'd gotten so close…

He immediately jumped out of the light, doing his best to melt into the shadows and extremely grateful for the dark night. More noise in front of him drew his attention, and he looked back to the mouth of the alley. The ground soldiers were starting to catch up, blocking his path back. Thankfully, the men weren't in range yet, and the space was too narrow for the tanks to reach. Still dodging the searchlight, he started moving backwards. A nearby fire escape caught his eye, and he let out a sigh of relief at the chance. He hadn't wanted to be caught in the open air of the rooftops, but a glance at the approaching soldiers reassured him it was the best path.

The fire escape was old and rusted, but fortunately held his weight. Unfortunately, the old metal creaked loudly as he put pressure on it. A shout came up from one of the Foot as he started to climb, and the searchlight found him soon after. Then it was just a test of his speed, to see if he could reach the top before they were able to hit him.

Don managed to cross over just as the first shots began to ring out. Not long after that, he heard the sharp rattling as the Foot started to climb. But the helicopter's beam was still following him as he moved away.

It was almost like a twisted game. He would have to weave and swerve wildly to get out of the helicopters beam, and as soon as he did it would flail about until some flash of movement or turn of luck gave him away and it managed to latch on again. Then it repeated.

The buildings themselves were no help. The rooftops had been picked clean of all large debris or random rubbish he could have used for cover, leaving only bare tile and the occasional used-up piece of trash beside him.

The sounds of another approaching patrol on his left reached him, and he ran faster. A change in the path up ahead caught his eye, and Don veered slightly right to adjust. It almost looked as if part of the path ahead had collapsed inward, creating a ragged tear in the row. As he got closer, he saw he wasn't too far off the mark. It was a building, or what used to be one. Some long ago fight or decay had caused the top floors to collapse on itself. It was an unstable maze of half rotted and falling down materials, and it was perfect.

He only paused for a moment to decide which section would be the least likely to cave in under his weight before he jumped into the mess. He landed lightly, then ducked under the large expanse of a section of the collapsed roof. For the first time since the patrol had found him, the helicopter's beam stayed off him. He carefully picked his way through the wreckage as he made his way to the far corner of the room. He ducked under a few tilted beams past a tattered hole in the side of the building without any trouble, and then looked back at his pursuers.

They'd reached the edge of the broken building, but were obviously hesitant at jumping into the unsteady building. One of the leaders barked a sharp command to the soldiers before the first one started making his slow way down. More followed, and they started to search. The men moved excruciatingly slowly, testing each step before they moved, and were obviously hampered by the lack of light. The helicopter, which had taken to hovering over the top of the structure, only illuminated a narrow beam of the rubble.

Don gave his surroundings another quick, searching glance, and his breath caught. There was another building outside. Not ten feet away, he could see another way out through one of the large holes in the wall. What he had first assumed to be a long drop-off to the street only fell to the roof of a lower building, close enough for him to jump down to. If he could make it to the edge without being seen… but the Foot were too close. They weren't quite _that _incompetent that they wouldn't notice him making a sudden sprint right next to them, and then he'd be right back where he started. He needed a distraction…

His mind turned to the factory, and the bombs slowly ticking away inside. How much time was left? He did a quick gauge of the time he'd been running, and, if he was right, it was almost time.

The city was sluggishly starting to come alive beneath him, nameless people filling the streets with small smatterings of noise. He was so close… He only had to stay unnoticed for a few more moments before the building blew and he had his distraction. The shinobi were starting to move uncomfortably close to where he was hiding in their methodical search. There wasn't enough rubble and shadows to keep him hidden for much longer. He was only able to count down the slowly ticking seconds, body tense in anticipation.

And…

Boom.

The old factory _exploded, _going up in a raging ball of fire that vomited black smoke. It was larger than even he had expected, and he vaguely mused that his bombs must have ignited some of the chemicals inside. As it tore apart, the building let off a guttural groan that vibrated through them even from this distance, causing the flooring to wobble dangerously. He got to see almost the entire regime jump and turn towards the flare almost in unison, one new Foot even letting out a muffled curse of surprise. A few of the more experienced ninja quickly dropped into a tense crouch, already scanning the skies and nearby buildings for whatever had caused the explosion.

By the time they remembered their search he was already gone. He ran across the empty space as soon as they were distracted, jumping to the lower building a split second after the explosion took place. He kept moving, doing his best to stick to the dense shadows.

This time he got farther before running into the Foot again. He stayed in the relative cover of the lower leveled buildings, but that left him oblivious to the movements far above his head.

He briefly caught a glimpse of a single Foot ninja on a nearby rooftop, radio in hand, before they multiplied. There was a blur of movement on the edge of his vision, which coalesced into the all too familiar figures of a full Foot patrol. It wasn't long until the loud cacophony of the helicopter came as well, and then the chase was back on.

As he ran, he set his mind completely on the here and now, each step and jump and sound of the Foot. He didn't even realize they'd been herding him until he was trapped against a dead end. He was just suddenly caught off from the rest of the buildings, stuck between the street, side of a building, and the oncoming ninja. Another patrol joined the first, further cutting him off. He casted about desperately for some escape route, some weakness in the gang, but there were none.

This time, there would be no deception, no hiding. The helicopter's light remained trained on him, and the Foot were careful to keep him pinned against the side of the building. The only way out would be through them, and there were too many for him to take alone. He was trapped. Keeping a wary eye on the ninja, he shifted into his battle stance, bō at the ready. He let out a dry laugh at the futility of the situation. Well, he'd always thought his plan would end up going to hell one way or another. At least he ended up taking out the factory with him, and the Foot were not going to have an easy fight. He'd take down as many as possible before he reached his limits.

Don tensed at an almost imperceptible shift in the air, then the Foot blurred into motion. He was immediately grateful for the long range of his blow, as he was able to knock back the first men, only for them to be replaced by more. He soon lost himself in the movement of the battle, relying on well-honed instincts and muscle memory to defend himself against the outpouring of attackers. The ninja themselves were more skilled than he'd expected. Their blows were faster, stronger than the last time he remembered fighting them, and he was still the same. Despite the almost overwhelming force, he was careful to keep his back against the wall, restricting how many could attack him at once.

Just as he was batting away a katana-wielding Foot, a sharp pain in his shoulder make him jerk away. He reached an unsteady hand up, and his blood ran cold as he fingers found metal. A dart. Drugged. Shell, he needed to get out _now. _He was about to make a last-ditch charge through one of the thinner sections of the mob when the effects started to hit him.

He stumbled as his vision suddenly doubled and his head filled with cotton. He put a hand to his head, trying to steady himself and fighting a losing battle to stay coherent. The Foot had stopped even pretending to fight him, instead just waiting for the inevitable. He tried to take a step further, but his balance betrayed him and he let out a low groan as he started to sway. His knees gave out suddenly, and he slipped to the ground. Then it was a fight just to stay conscious.

Just as he was about to give in, he heard an achingly familiar battle cry ring out. His breath caught at the sound, recognition instinctual after years of hearing it. He forced his eyes open one more time, and was able to catch a glimpse of a green blur above him.

Then darkness claimed him.

~.*.~

_AN__: … I'm really sorry for the delay, but some of these scenes required vigorous pounding with a large rock before they would come out. On the plus side, it's the first action scene I've ever done, and I actually kind of like it. Hopefully I'll be quicker with the next one, but... there's actually going to be character interaction and dialog. That might take me a while..._


	5. Enlightenment

Enlightenment

-Kiyoko Michi

~.*.~

In time there surely, come a day

In time all things shall pass away,

In time you may come back some say.

To live once more, or die once more,

But in time, your time will be no more.

-Mark Collie, "In Time"

~.*.~

Don woke up slowly, warm and relaxed for the first time in a long while. Sleep clung to his mind in gentle tendrils, creating a pleasant, thoughtless fog. Something slightly rough rubbed against the back of his neck as he shifted faintly, but he was lying comfortable on some sort of mattress. He felt… safe. Secure. And it felt so, so good to finally be able to relax.

There was a brief presence against his cheek as something touched him, but it only brushed gently against his skin before disappearing, and the recognition quickly faded from his attention. He was about ready to slide back into sleep when a niggling feeling pushed at him. He frowned at the unpleasant sensation, trying to ignore it and slide back into the peaceful haze blanketing his thoughts, but it kept pushing at his mind regardless. He finally sighed, resigning himself to reality, and froze utterly still as he woke up enough to understand.

This wasn't right. The last vestiges of sleep left him as a cold realization hit him. He wasn't home. He wasn't near his bed or room or brothers, but alone in this messed up, _wrong _place as he'd been for weeks. There was the factory and the Foot and the dart, and he was supposed to be captive in a cell somewhere, not untied on a bed and _this wasn't right. _

There was a soft creak beside him, and Don remembered he wasn't alone. He pushed sharply away from the sound, turning to face the unknown threat and opening his eyes for the first time. The figure beside him froze at the abrupt movement, and brown eyes met started gold.

"Raph?" Don whispered in disbelief. His arms fell down from their half-formed fighting stance in shock. He only spent a moment confirming that yes, this really was his brother, before he launched himself at him, wrapping his arms firmly his shell. There was a sharp intake of breath and Don felt his brother stiffen at the sudden contact, but he kept his face firmly planted against the other's plastron. When he finally relaxed and slowly, haltingly returned the embrace, Don could have sobbedwith relief. His brother was actually here… Raph was _here_, and he wouldn't have to stumble through everything alone anymore. He felt a shudder run through his brother before his arms tightened, and he was almost crushed to Raph's plastron.

"Donnie…," Raph breathed, voice hoarse from disbelief, and rougher than he remembered. "Yer back. Yer finally…" And then he just trailed off, and held him all the more closer. For the moment, Don was content to stay like that. He'd find the answers to his burning questions, to the rest of his family soon, but for now he just wanted to remind himself his brother was here, and Raph seemed content to do the same. He was a bit surprised to feel an unfamiliar material under his fingertips, which turned out to be some sort of jacket when he turned his head far enough to see. Which was odd, since he knew Raph hated wearing human clothing, but that observation was unbelievably trivial compared to everything else. After a few minutes, Don let out a soft sigh as he pushed lightly away from his position. It was time.

He was just opening his mouth to ask the first question when he got his first clear look of Raph's face, and the words dried in his throat. Raph's eye was gone. Instead of the two burning eyes there should have been, one of Raph's red bandana's eyeholes had been clumsily sewed shut. Raph's remaining eye (and _shell _that just wasn't right) stared evenly back at him. Raph stayed still, knowingly, as Don got his first good look at his brother, and Don couldn't look away because… because Raph was _old. _Definitely not a teenager anymore, and that in itself was terrifying. He was bigger, taller and broader than he used to be and slightly thicker with muscle. Unfamiliar scars roped around him, dents in his plastron and scar tissue snaking out from under the clothing. Even his face was different, still the same, still _Raph_, but with deep wrinkles creasing his features that made him look older and tired. And that familiar spark of rebellion he'd always carried was gone, buried under some unknown weight.

"Raph," he finally forced out as the shock started to wear off. "What _happened _here? How could… how did this happen?" Raph let out a deep sigh before moving away from him, settling beside him on the bed so he could look him in the eye. As he moved, Don used the opportunity to swing his legs into a more comfortable position and looked expectantly at his brother.

"That's a very, _very_ long story, Donnie," Raph said, lips twisting in a hollow smile. "Yer gonna have ta hear it, but not now. First, yer gonna have to tell _me_ somethin'. Like what the fuck'sgoin' on right now an' how in the _hell_ ya ended up bein' chased by the Foot."

"I… Raph, I'm not sure how to-" Don stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden role reversal.

Raph quirked an eye ridge in skepticism, and the familiar gesture, even on the not-quite-wrong face, was enough to relax him marginally. "Just start from the beginnin'. The first thing ya remember 'bout all this."

Don spent a moment searching through the events of the last few weeks, trying to organize them into a coherent pattern. "Honestly, there isn't very much for me to tell. I don't really remember what happened," he finally began. He gave a brief glance at Raph's reaction, but Raph only motioned for him to continue, brow furrowed in thought. "It's been about two weeks since I got here. I just… woke up in the Lair, and I don't know how. I can't even remember what I was doing before that. I was just there. After my initial panic at the state of the lair, I cleaned it up a bit and started exploring the city."

"Are ya sure ya don't remember anythin' before arrivin' in the Lair?" Raph interrupted. "At all?"

"I can barely even remember anything about the entire morning before that, let alone how I arrived. I know it was when things were still normally, but then my memory's a blank until I was here. " Don paused for a moment, thinking back to his first panicked minutes in the Lair, before haltingly continuing. "Actually… there might have been _something_. When I first woke up, there was a brief impression of falling or vertigo. Maybe even a brief glimpse of a fight, but I can't even be sure whether that's a real memory or just my mind playing tricks."

Raph let out a small sound of thought, then asked, "An' the Foot?"

"That was a… misjudgment on my part." At Raph's questioning look, he elaborated. "I was unable to find a hint to either your location or a rebellion's, so I decided I needed to try a more… conspicuous method to get your attention. In hindsight, that might have been a rather _poorly_ thought out decision. I'd managed to repair my lab enough to make some relatively powerful explosives, and decided to attempt an infiltration on what I'd assumed to be a lightly guarded industrial factory."

"Hold on, that was _you?_" Raph looked at him incredulously. "_You _were the one who blew up one of the factories?" Don nodded, and Raph let out a real, deep laugh, something he'd rarely heard even from the young Raph he remembered.

"Damn, Don. I was wonderin' what the hell caused that." He finally said after he gained control of himself. "That was how I knew somethin' exciting was happenin'. I was on the roofs when I heard the noise 'n went ta see what was goin' on. Was one hell of a surprise ta see ya there."

"Wait…" Raph stopped as a thought struck him. "Ya mean ya snuck inside one of those buildings without knowin' anything 'bout them? Any of the tech or security? There's a reason the Rebellion hasn't destroyed all of 'em yet. Those things are frickin' _dangerous, _'specially if ya attack 'em by yerself."

"I think I managed to figure that out by the time the robots started chasing me." Don said dryly. "Like I said, it was a poor decision made on too little information." Raph gave a slight nod in acknowledgement of the jibe, then let it go to returned to their discussion.

"An' after that?"

"Nothing really noteworthy happened after that." Don said with a shake of his head. "I ran into some of the fighting machines soon after I set the explosives, and then led the Foot patrols on a chase until they managed to corner me. You know the rest of it."

After he finished, it was silent. Don glanced over at his brother, looking for a reaction, but Raph only sat staring into space, thinking. As the pause lengthened, Don slowly worked up the courage to ask his brother a question that had been starting to bother him.

"Raph don't you think all this is a bit… unusual?" he pensively asked. Raph looked at him a bit disbelievingly, so he tried to clarify. "I mean, it seems a bit coincidental that I would show up out of the blue still sixteen, conveniently without any memories of how or why, and you haven't even really questioned-" He was cut off by a loud scoff from his brother, whose face had been darkening as he'd continued speaking.

"'Course I think it's odd! Thing's like yer long lost brother magically reappearing ain't exactly common." Raph groused derisively. "Something obviously ain't right 'bout it, but I remember ya well enough to tell that yer really him, not some sort of imposter. Right now, that's good enough fer me. An' when it's been thirty years since I last saw ya, I'm _not_ gonna do anything ta mess this up."

"Thirty years?" Don whispered in dawning horror. It couldn't have been that long… It _couldn't _have been three decades since he last saw his family. That would mean Raph would be pushing _fifty, _and even with all the differences, it just wasn't possible for his brothers to be three times as old as him. And Master Splinter… he'd already been so old when he left. Old enough to make him start to worry back then, and for thirty _years _to have past would mean… He resolutely pushed the forming thought to the back of his mind, for a better time to think on it, and focused on Raph's answer instead.

"Yeah. It's been a long, long time, Donnie," Raph answered softly. He sat up a bit straighter to lean against a nearby wall, crossing his arms defensively. "I guess now it's time for ya ta hear 'bout this hellhole."

"First of all, Leo n' Mike are alive. Ya don't have ta worry 'bout that." Raph reassured with a shake of his head, and Don felt himself relax marginally. "But I think yer gonna have ta hear 'bout everything else first"

"What?" Don exclaimed. It wasn't as if he didn't care about the city, but… "That's not as important. I need to know what's happened, what the Shredder's done, but our family's the first priority. Always." And with the answers finally within his reach, he couldn't wait any longer to know.

A brief, inexplicable flash of pain shadowed Raph's face, highlighting its changes, but it was gone by the time he replied. "I know. An' I can probably guess how much you've been worryin' 'bout everyone since ya got here, but yer gonna half ta wait a bit longer. Everythin's complicated enough that ya won't be able ta really understand it without hearin' 'bout the rest of it first."

There was a tense pause as Raph waited for his answer, but Don finally nodded his consent. If Raph really thought it was that important, he trusted his judgment. The silence continued for another moment as Raph figured out how to begin.

"Everythin' started when ya didn't come back," Raph began, ignoring the sudden hitch in Don's breath. "One day, ya were just… gone. Ya went out fer somethin', and never came back. We never even saw ya leave the Lair. Never even manage ta figure out what'd happened, whether it was an ambush or accident or what. There was nothin', not even a hint of a struggle. And after a while, we… had ta accept ya just weren't gonna come back."

Raph had to stop for a moment, and Don could see him struggling to control his emotions. He could clearly hear the pain in his voice Raph was tried to hide, and Don had to force himself not to reach out to try to comfort his brother. Knowing him, it wouldn't be welcome. Instead, he let Raph collect himself in silence, and he took the opportunity to digest the fact that he'd gone missing. He'd inferred it from Raph's previous statements, but to hear it said out loud made it more real. So he tried to connect what he knew and had theorized during the past week with what Raph had told him.

His personal way out of the Lair… he had been using it more often lately, and his brothers would be too used to his work habits to notice anything amiss. He could almost see how it would have happened. He would have snuck out during a late night, mind too immersed in his thoughts to pay attention to anyone following until it was too late. If he was outnumbered, the first thing he would have done would be to take out his shell-cell. His intricate, easily breakable shell-cell. And a well-planned ambush would have had someone hidden just waiting for an opportunity to break it. Then there would have been a fight, and the inevitable mistake nobody else would have been there to cover him on. And whenever he followed what would have come after that, no matter who'd been attacking, it only led to one ending.

Finally, hesitant and half to himself, Don mumbled "So… does that mean that I… I'm _dead_ here?"

Raph closed his eyes. "After all that time, I didn't think anythin' else made sense. 'Course, seein' ya now changes a few things."

"But…" Don continued, still following his previous train of thought. The time lapse, confusion, mental blanks… it just didn't add up. It didn't make _sense, _no matter how long he thought about it. Not if he was the one who'd disappeared. "If your Don's dead, then what does that make me?"

"Donnie…" Raph started, then stopped. He looked like he was about to say something for a moment, but then he swallowed hard and stayed silent. "I… don't know."

"You sound like you might have a theory." _or are trying to hide something, _Don thought, but he waited for Raph's reply. He wasn't ready to throw around accusations yet, particularly without any real reason.

"I jus'… think we should wait fer the rest of the family 'for we start making guesses," Raph responded. Don reluctantly nodded his consent, willing to let the point go, and Raph continued from where he'd left off. He stumbled over his words for a few moments before regaining his composure.

"We… we really messed up the first years after ya disappeared. Searching for ya was all we did, an' we practically abandoned the city for it. Then the Foot started growin', but we just brushed it off as nothin' important and kept lookin'. By the time we figured just how big he'd been plannin', it was too late."

"Back then, we never did give the Shredder enough credit. He was always crap at planin' normal attacks an' guardin' things, at anythin' needin' subtlety really, and we underestimated him. He planned out everythin' about his takeover. We didn' have a chance ta stop him. Weren't even in New York when we heard 'bout it."

"Ya saw the results of what happened. He took over the city." Raph bluntly stated. "Used the tech he fixed up from what the Utroms left ta grab control of everythin'. He'd already got control of half the cops and officials 'fore that ta smooth the way fer him, and then he started usin' weapons nobody'd ever even seen before ta stay in control. Made the entire city his base in one move. We came back soon as we heard, even managed ta take out some pretty large chunks of his forces together, but we couldn't touch the weapons he made or the tech side of things. Didn't know how. And with them still runnin', we couldn't stop him."

Raph paused in his narration for a moment, and looked over at Don sadly. "We… lost Casey in an ambush 'bout a year after the takeover. That was when I lost my eye s'well."

For a moment, Don couldn't breathe. Then he closed his eyes in mourning for one of the only humans he'd known, and a good man. With the state of the city, he'd half expected that one of them hadn't made it, but that didn't make it any less painful, and he angrily, guiltily pushed back a slight flash of relief that it wasn't one of his brothers dead. When he got himself under control, he nodded for Raph to continue, not trusting his voice.

"April was the one who got the Rebellion started after that," Raph continued. "She rallied the people livin' under the Shredder ta start a hidden revolt. Gained a loyal followin' with that, an' a good information base. Mike, Leo, n' I helped her get started. Trainin' the troops and guardin' the place mostly while April organized and led it."

"That doesn't sound like the April I remember," Don mused uncertainly. April had never shown any interest whatsoever in fighting before, and he'd always got the feeling she disapproved of the violence. She was a strong woman, but _leading _the Rebellion? It didn't seem to fit her personality. Although, if things really had been as bad as they seemed, she would have had to change. And with… with Casey dead, he could almost see something like that happening. "How different is she now? Is she still in charge?"

Raph nodded. "Yeah, April's still head of it. She hasn't changed as much as others, but she did half ta get a lot harder with everythin' that happened, 'specially after Casey. The Rebellion's grown a lot too since she started it, and Angel's one of the other leaders in 'nother city. They got it set up all 'cross the US, but April an' the main base are still in New York. "

"Wait, the Rebellion's nationwide?" Don interrupted at the new information. "Just how much land does the Shredder control?"

"A lot," Raph answered bitterly. "Shredder managed ta gain control of the entire country 'most fifteen years ago now, and we were lucky he stopped there. April did a good job with the Rebellion and all, but we just didn't have the tech ta do anythin' more than delay him. An' when he gained control of the government, he got all their weapons too. All the bombs and military tech and nukes."

"But… what about the rest of the world? They wouldn't have just sat back and let an entire country fall like that, especially one with the US's weaponry, without getting themselves involved," Don reasoned.

"Yer right, an' they did try," Raph replied. "Shredder's sudden takeover caused a huge stir, and the other big countries tried to stop him soon after he started takin' control. Formed some sort a military alliance when they realized the danger of him gettin' hold of all the weapons, and tried ta attack his stronghold with _their _bombs."

"But it didn't work." Raph's tone grew harsh as he related the past failures. "Turns out Shredder planned fer that too and was able ta use the Utroms ta stop 'em. Then he threatened ta start a nuclear war, and all those countries backed down real quick when they realized their big weapons were all but worthless. We haven't heard much from 'em since- don't get much world news here."

Don frowned at the news, almost impressed with how neatly the Shredder'd trapped the world despite himself. The Shredder with nuclear weapons… _that_ was something he didn't want to contemplate, and apparently that wasn't even the strongest of his technology. "How did he manage to capture the Utroms anyway? The Transmat had to have been destroyed from when the Utroms left, and I can't imagine Shredder would have had one of his own and never used it before."

"The Utroms…" Raph grimaced at the thought, rubbing his head as if to ward away a headache. "The Foot managed ta gain control of them 'bout a year before the States fell. Shredder apparently had managed ta recover some of the Transmat or its blueprints or something, and he'd been having his scientists workin' on it fer years. Eventually, they figured out enough ta make a small portal there. It was big enough ta get the Shredder and enough of his forces over there ta take over, an' it wasn't long before he won.

"Didn't the Utroms fight? They had to have had sufficiently advanced technology to match the Shredder's."

"They were advanced, but they weren't fighters. They didn't fight wars like humans did, so they had no real grasp of tactics or how ta fight someone like the Shredder, an' there tech was useless without that. It only took the Foot a year ta enslaved the entire race, an' then he brought the ones left and their tech back here ta fight. Then after Shredder finished with the States, things got quieter fer a bit. Settled into a slower sorta decay."

Don pictured the city; the falling down buildings, neglected streets, depression. Unfortunately, decay was a fitting description. "What about the people still living here? What happened to them during this?"

Raph let out another deep sigh before answering. "Ya always know jus' the wrong question ta ask, don't ya. A lot a bad things happened ta the average people. When the Shredder took over, there were three types of people. They either stood up an' fought with the Rebellion, laid down an' just passively survived everythin', or were too weak to keep livin' under his rule. Thing was, when the Shredder took over, he changed everythin' bout how the places worked. Ya saw all the factories he put up ta keep fightin', an' one of the first things he did was closin' up old stores and reasignin' workers there. Closed down all the hospitals and schools and nursing homes first, places that weren't useful ta him, an' started rationing almost everything. Then everyone who wasn't resilient enough started dyin', from hunger or disease or suicide."

"An' for the people that chose ta fight, it wasn't any better. By the time the Utroms fell, people'd been fightin' and dyin' for a decade. Half the recruits were young enough they couldn't even remember what it'd been like before, and everyone else'd given up on actually managin' ta win. People kept fightin' because that was the only thing left, and that ain't no reason. An' recently we got some info sayin' things are gonna get worse again real soon."

"Shredder's not satisfied with controlling only two races, is he." Don stated quietly, voicing his earlier suspicions. "He's going to try to conquer more planets. That, or he's already started."

After a brief moment of surprise, Raph nodded. "Probably should a guessed ya'd figure it out. Guess I forgot how perceptive ya always were. " The small, nostalgic smile that had briefly appeared faded as he continued. "Yer right. Shredder's buildin' another Transmat, a larger one ta transport his entire army. It's not done yet, but its gettin' close. That's what we're tryin' ta do now- sabotage it- but he's got it protected heavily enough it's slow goin'."

"Yer probably gonna have ta find out all the details and stuff later, but that's probably all the stuff ya need ta know fer now. Shredder's in charge, and he doesn't give a shit about the city. Right now, I'm guessing there's somethin' else ya'd rather hear 'bout."

"Are you going to tell me about what's happened to our family through all this?" Don asked intently. He'd been paying careful attention to all the new knowledge, but this was the information he'd been waiting for.

"Yeah…" Raph got a pained look on his face, and his jacked rustled as he shifted tensely. "Fuck, that ain't something I'm lookin' forward ta tellin' ya."

"Raph?" Don asked, apprehensive at the cryptic statement, but his brother didn't provide a real answer to his confusion.

"It's just… a really complicated story, Don." Raph began grimly. He let out a dry, ironic chuckle. "Hell, I can't even really tell ya 'bout a lot of it right without Leo 'n Mike here."

"Hold on, _Mike_?" Don interjected. He had to mean their brother, but… _Mike? _They'd _never _called their brother that. Even when they'd started to outgrow old nicknames, they'd never even considered calling Mikey anything else. It just didn't _fit _him… or, the Mikey he remembered at least. He had to keep reminding himself that things were different now.

"Huh?" Raph stopped, looking over at him in surprise at the unexpected interruption. "Oh yeah, ya remember 'im as Mikey. That's… well, I suppose it's as good a place ta start as any. He decided ta change it ta Mike when we were 'bout thirty, so bit more than ten years after ya left. It… It was hardest fer Mike when things started goin' bad. When we were young, we'd always tried ta protect 'im from the worst stuff, an' he wasn't the type ta search it out for himself. Then when everything fell apart after the Shredder's attack, he was the least prepared ta handle it. All the senseless deaths and fightin' got ta him quickly, and he had to grow up too fast."

"And the name change?" Don asked softly, voice almost inaudible.

"He decided ta change it after the Utroms. We'd learned 'bout the Shredder's plans ta start an invasion and decided ta team up ta try and stop it. It failed. Badly. They were ready for us, either from some traitor or some new security tech we just didn't pick up on. We lost a lot a good people that day, and didn't even get close ta the Transmat. An' then Mike got hurt bad durin' it. The Elite were there, and one of 'em got in a lucky strike and Mike… he ended up losin' his arm."

"What…" Don gaped. "But… that's…" He wanted to say impossible, but it wouldn't come out. He wanted to say it could never happen, that _Mikey_ would never have to go through that and Raph had to be somehow mistaken, but he never had been able to lie to himself. So he could only force the information to the back of his mind to be dealt with later, like he had for so much of what he'd heard, and ask for Raph to continue. He didn't have the strength to break down every few minutes.

Raph gave a slight sound of understanding, but he still wouldn't look him in the eye as he continued speaking. "He was strong after that, but in a way he never shoulda had ta be. Worked like hell ta get used ta fightin' one handed, and closed himself off fer a long time. Then he started askin' us ta get rid of his nickname, and we had ta listen. He just wasn't that kid anymore, the carefree teenager that Mikey was, and it didn't seem right ta call him that."

"One handed? But… couldn't he have at least gotten a prosthetic made?" Don implored, trying to find some loophole for his younger brother. "They were advancing quickly back… back from when I remember, and there's enough new technology here that there has to have been _something _for him even with the Shredder's influence."

Raph was shaking his head before he'd even finished. "There's prosthetics alright, but nobody we'd trust ta make one. The few scientists we know are… well, you'll understand when ya see 'em."

"And Leo?" Don asked uneasily, almost afraid of what he'd hear about his last brother.

"Ah… Leo and I, we… don't exactly get along anymore," Raph said after a brief pause. He stared resolutely at the wall then, looking almost… guilty? That wasn't right.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, a bit sharper than he'd intended. Raph looked back at him, but his expression didn't change and he could see his fists tighten.

"Things really changed in the family after ya left. We tried ta stay together, but things jus' kept getting worse. We couldn' find a sign of ya anywhere, and we didn't know how ta be a family without ya. Fights between the two of us jus' kept gettin' worse, 'specially after the Shredder attacked, and eventually we stopped tryin' to fix it. It was jus'… easier ta stay apart."

"You guys split apart?" Don cried in disbelief. "How? Why? That's…" Don trailed off as he aw the dark expression Raph was trying to hide at the thought of their eldest brother. The barely concealed rage starting to creep over Raph's face he'd always reserved, not just for their enemies, but for those like the _Shredder_. And now it was there because of _Leo_. And no matter how bad the fights between the two had gotten, he'd never seen that dark fury facing Leo before. Hadn't thought it to be possible.

"I'm not gonna be the one ta tell ya 'bout what that bas- ah, 'bout what happened with Leo," he said tersely. "'Least not without someone else there too." Don frowned at the refusal, but accepted it. If it really was that bad between Raph and Leo, then listening to only Raph tell the story wouldn't do Leo justice. And he felt a slight bit of relief at the thought. After all, if Raph was willing to let Leo have at least a chance to defend his side, then there had to be some hope. But that relief was quickly eclipse by worry over their youngest brother.

"What about Mikey? What did he do when… when you guys split apart?" What _about_ their little brother, who had confided in him years ago that his greatest fear was being left alone? Who still sometimes went to him at night over nightmares ranging from the childish to their all too possible deaths? There was no way…

"He wouldn't, _couldn't _chose between his bros. An' we wouldn't make him. " Don couldn't stop a soft sound of pain from escaping him at that, and he could see Raph wince as it reached him.

A sudden thought hit him and, even though Don knew he was grasping at straws, he desperately voiced it. "But… you said the three of you worked together to help the Rebellion. It couldn't have been like that if-"

"Mike's the only one still with 'em now. " Raph interrupted. "We all helped 'em ta get started early on, but when things started goin' bad… we stopped helpin' together, or much at all. We… Leo n' I still keep in touch with him at least, but not together or all that often."

"Then everything really did fall apart." Don whispered to himself. And how horribly symbolic it was, that there family had fallen apart with their city. And it- it just wasn't right. They were supposed to be a _family,_ to be able to depend on each other when things were bad. The estrangement just didn't _fit, _not for their family_._ They couldn'thave split apart when things went wrong, no matter how bad, because they _needed _each other. They'd never spent more than an hour away from each other growing up, had depended on each other for almost everything. The two weeks he'd spent isolated had been the worst of his life, not just because of the destruction, but because he'd truly been _alone _for the first time in his life. And his brothers had been alone, had _chosen _to be alone for years, no _decades. _ It just didn't make sense. Not for them. With his brothers, combined with what had happened with the Shredder, Don had more than enough material to analyze. But there was something else he needed to know. One member of the family Raph hadn't so much as mentioned, and Don didn't even want to consider what that would mean. Even so, he had to know.

"Raph… what about Father?" Don asked quietly. Raph visibly flinched at that, and Don's worry grew.

"… 'm sorry Don," he said quietly. He wouldn't meet Don's eyes. "He was… killed, not long after ya disappeared."

And with that, everything stopped.

He thought Raph might have kept talking, trying to explain what happened or comfort him, but Don couldn't hear the words. His mind was still stuck on that one sentence. His father was dead. Killed. Not dead of old age or disease, peacefully the way it should have been, but _murdered. _And so long ago. It wasn't something he could just deal with.

He tried to hold it back, to push that horrible piece of knowledge back far enough to deal with it in private, but it wouldn't go. Even he had limits, and he had finally reached them. His hands were trembling, breath uneven, and he didn't even want to thinkabout what his expression had to look like. And then Raph was there. Silently offering his support beside him, knowing how hard Father's death, how hard _everything_ was hitting him, and it was that steady support that finally cracked his resolve.

And he grieved.

For the broken strangers on the streets and countless, nameless more dead because nobody had been able to stop the Shredder.

For the listless tone of the city that had once been his home, and all the abandoned, falling down buildings that had been so bright and magnificent.

For Casey, one of his few true friends, who had died fighting a losing battle and April, who had to keep going without him.

For thirty years inexplicably gone, and all the changes he _should _have been there to make or die trying, in his family and their fight.

For his brothers, who _never _should have had to go through hell alone or become so tarnished and broken. For Raph's eye and Mikey's arm and Leo's estrangement.

And for his father, the man who raised them and taught them and loved them, and who had been dead for twice as long as he'd been alive.

He let everything flow through his mind and out, a painful, jagged cleansing, and Raph stayed beside him, strong and just _there _throughout it all.

~.*.~

.

AN: … I've never actually written a real dialogue scene before (Thought one up? Heck yeah. Actually written one down? No.), so I'm a bit worried about how this turned out. Comments on everything from whether or not I did a good enough job getting emotions across to if there was enough variety in the dialogue words used are _very_ welcome.

Also, for some odd reason FFDN wasn't letting me reply to reviews last chapter, so if anyone knows why message me and if not, I'm assuming it was a glitch. So thanks to everyone who reviewed Ch. 4, and Antebellum Hope, flying otter, and Telyra in particular for their awesome reviews. Thanks to ZathuraRoy as well for helping me with the story.


	6. Expectations

Expectations

As I was climbing up the stairs

I met a man who wasn't there.

He wasn't there again today

Oh how I wish he'd go away…

-Antigonish

"I want to see them," Don whispered after the storm passed and he finally managed to gain control of his emotions again. Slightly embarrassed at his breakdown, he pushed away from his older brother to sit straight on his own.

"What?" Raph questioned, though Don could see he already knew what he had meant.

"Leo and Mikey. I- I want to see them for myself," he repeated, a bit uncertain after the animosity Raph had shown last time he'd mentioned Leo.

"Don, that might not-" Raph objected, and Don saw the hint of the old grudge on his face again, though thankfully not as strong as the first time.

Don cut him off before he could finish his protest. "Raph," he pleaded, _willing _his brother to understand just how much he needed to see the rest of his family again. To reassure himself that, no matter how different they were now, his brothers were all still alive. He held his gaze for a few long seconds before Raph finally looked away in reluctant acquiescence, the spark of anger going out for now.

"Yeah. 'Kay, I guess ya were gonna half ta meet them sometime," he grumbled grudgingly. "But it might be… hard for me ta get 'hold of Leo with things the way they are."

Don raised his eye ridge at the weak excuse. Raph had to be pretty desperate to try something he had to have known wouldn't work. "Can't you just go through Mikey? Someone at the Rebellion has to be capable of contacting him."

Raph grimaced, looking slightly annoyed at how easily his excuse had been countered, before yielding. "…Fine. I'll ask Mike ta bring him." He stood up and took out a compact metal device from one of the pockets on his jacket, flipping the top open like a phone. Don was just able to catch a glimpse of a dark screen, and shifted slightly to get a better view.

Noticing Don's curious gaze, Raph answered his unspoken question. "Without ya ta fix 'em, the shell cells broke a while ago. These work most the same way, though a bit less showy an' with more people. They're a damn useful way ta contact people without worryin' bout Shredder findin' out. Most of the higher ups are connected." He held it up as if about to use it, but then paused and lowered it slightly to look back at his younger brother.

"Don... are ya sure yer ready ta see 'em?" Raph asked, shifting slightly in awkward concern. This time, Don was pleased to note the delay was genuine, not just another excuse. "Ya just woke up after the Foot an' hearin' bout everythin' that ya missed. I know yer gonna start obsessin' bout everythin' ya heard soon as ya get the chance. An'… it's probably gonna be hard ta convince 'em it's the real deal."

Don didn't even hesitate. "I'm sure."

Raph let out a small sigh at his answer, but dutifully pressed something on the machine and started pacing around the small room. He didn't have to wait long. "'s me, Mike." Raph paused for a moment, and if he strained, Don could almost hear the echoes of his younger brother's voice on the other end. "I… found somethin' when I was patrollin' earlier tonight. Somethin' ya need ta know 'bout."

There was another pause then, in response to a question Don couldn't hear, Raph said "It's… somethin' ya really have ta see fer yerself."

Another pause. "No, it's not 'bout the Transmat, though I think it could help. It's… just trust me on this, it's real important." He took on a cynical tone. "An' ya probably wouldn't believe me if I tried ta tell ya 'bout it before ya see it."

"An' Mike?" His voice turned darker, and he only reluctantly continued. "Bring… _Leo_ with ya." Don could almost hear the stunned silence that followed that remark, and Raph hung up without giving the other time to respond.

"There. Dependin' on how long it takes Mike ta get ahold of him, it'll probably take 'bout a half hour for them ta get here."

"Thanks, Raph." Don smiled gratefully, and Raph quickly looked away in discomfort.

"C'mon." Raph turned away quickly and walked over to one of the closed doors across from them, motioning for his brother to follow. "Might as well get comfy in the main room while we wait." Don quickly followed. As they entered the new room, Don gave the room a quick once-over. It was just as sparsely decorated as the first had been, with only a rundown couch along one wall and some old, though well cared for, weights along another. He'd already figured out they were in one of the abandoned apartment buildings, but it took him a moment to place the peculiar feeling something was missing.

"No windows?"

Raph shrugged, and the battered couch let out a low creak as he sat down on it. "I figured it was safer. Less of a chance someone would notice somethin' odd anyway. There's some windows in the hallway over there" he motioned towards a closed door across the room "facin' an alleyway that they'll probably use ta get in."

Don nodded, and his mind returned to thoughts of his remaining family. Two weeks, and it would only be a matter of minutes until he saw what time had twisted them into. "What should I expect from them?" he asked uneasily. "You said earlier they might be… difficult to convince. I know they'll both have changed from what I remember, but… how? Is there anything you can warn me about now, so I'm a bit more prepared to meet them again?"

Raph didn't reply immediately, still looking at the wall across from them. It was quiet for long enough that Don was surprised when his brother actually did start talking. "Mike'll probably react worst." Raph finally replied. "Neither of them will be expectin' anythin' like this, an' both of them hate bein' caught by surprise. 'specially with somethin' personal like this. Believe it or not, Mike's almost got a temper ta rival mine now, when the mood strikes 'em. An' I got a feelin' he never totally dealt with everythin' that happened. It should get better if he gets convinced it's not a trick, but even then… emotions are tricky things.

"Will Leo react the same way?" Don asked uncertainly.

There was the flash of annoyance Don had almost come to expect at the mention of their eldest brother, but Raph still answered. "I'm not sure. It's hard ta really know anythin' with him. The hard part'll probably be getting' him ta believe yer not some sorta fake. He's still as fuckin' paranoid as when we were teens, that hasn't changed. After that… well, he's at least calmer with his emotion, that's fer sure." Raph finished his short speech bitterly, and Don could barely stop himself from asking him why. A moment later, his annoyed expression flickered as a different thought hit him.

"An' speakin' of Leo, there's somethin' else 'bout him ya should know 'fore ya see him. 'Bout five years ago now, Leo got his sight messed up by some sorta flash bomb against the Foot. "

Don leaned his head back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes to ward off an impending headache and to hide the sharp spasm of dread at the news. He should have known better than to hope one of his brothers had gotten off without some sort of permanent injury. "How bad is it?" Don asked with some trepidation.

"'S not good, but not too terrible either," Raph reassured. "He has trouble makin' out things, details 'specially, but he doesn't let it affect his fighting at all. He does wear these glasses that makes it look worse than it really is though, so I thought I'd better warn ya." Don nodded his thanks at the warning, relaxing slightly since, for once, reality was actually better than he'd expected. After that, conversation trickled off and the remaining time passed uneventfully.

Some number of minutes later, Raph suddenly stiffened, turning his full attention to the closed doorway. "They're here," he said tersely, and Don followed his brother to his feet. Don couldn't hear any new noises, couldn't even sense their arrival, but he trusted his brother's instincts. If he said they were here, then they were. So he focused on trying to prepare himself for his first meeting with his brothers in the new reality. When a half-familiar voice broke the heavy silence, he jerked at the sudden sound.

"Alright Raph, I'm here and I brought Leo." The tone wasn't nearly right, but it was definitely their youngest brother. "Now what the hell's so important you had to-" That was when Mike first entered the room, and caught sight of his missing brother. Mike stopped mid-sentence and let out a slightly strangled sound. Caught completely flat-footed, his face went slack, and he stared. Don did the same.

Mikey's arm really was gone.

He'd known it, had thought he'd managed to accept the idea, but it wasn't the same as seeing it in person. Of having to reconcile the image of his little brother with this… scarred _warrior. _And it was _wrong _to see Mikey like that. Mikey wasn't supposed to have hard eyes and missing pieces, old scars or unfamiliar expressions. He wasn't supposed to have been so twisted he couldn't even find the remnants of his old, bubbly demeanor.

Even with Raph, there'd been some familiarity- expressions and gestures and moods he could connect with before. Raph had seemed harsher, more controlled, but he'd still been _Raph_. Mikey… didn't. Even from the few moments since he'd entered, Don could see that. Innocent teens, after all, didn't barge into their brother's home with an insult, or look at them as if they could be an enemy. And as Mike started to regain his balance, he was looking more and more accusatory.

"Wha-" Mike wavering voice broke at the question, and he had to start again. "What the _hell _is going on here?" Mike's eyes flickered between his brothers in disbelief, face twisting in a mix of confusion and budding anger. Raph opened his mouth to start an explanation, but he was cut off by a new voice behind the younger turtle.

"Mike?" Leo asked from his spot in the hall, his authoritative tone making the question sound like more of a command. Leo's voice was immediately recognizable, thankfully closer to the cadence Don remembered. "What is it?" A forest green hand appeared on Mike's shoulder, gently but firmly moving it aside so he could enter the room, and Don saw his last brother.

The first thing he noticed was the jarring black of the glasses that had replaced Leo's old blue mask, and Don noted the bleak irony in how it was only Leo, the turtle most dedicated to their heritage, who had broken that tradition. Leo truly did look blind with the dark glasses hiding his eyes, and Don silently thanked Raph for warning him beforehand. Then he took in the rest of the changes.

Leo was just as old, just as worn, just as painfully scarred as his other two brothers, but it was still far better than seeing the changes on Mikey. Like Raph, Leo had always been harder. He was their leader after all, and too used to making difficult decisions. The dark trench coat now blocking most of his body surprised him, though not enough to break his composure.

As he came into the room, Leo's face turned slightly as his hidden eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on Raph's form before settling on Don. Leo didn't say anything, but Don noticed the slight furrow on his face that meant he was trying to focus on something. He felt a brief pang of sorrow at the thought. After all, if Leo really couldn't recognize him at this distance, then his eyesight had to be damaged worse than he'd originally thought. He glanced at Raph to gauge his reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. Raph's face was carefully neutral, but his jaw and fists were clenched in barely controlled anger, and his eye never wavered from Leo's face.

It was Mike that finally answered Leo's question. "It… I think that's _Donnie,_" he said uncertainly, face still shifting between expressions as trying to decide what to feel and for a moment, Don could see a bit of the old Mikey in his hesitance. But it was quickly covered up, and Leo was as still as the graveyard.

Had it been anyone else, Don was sure he would be gaping at him, caught completely off guard by his appearance like Mike had been. It was a testimony to Leo's self-control that he only stared fixatedly, and a sign of the weight of the news that he showed even that much emotion. As it was, Leo's face was carefully expressionless, but Don could almost feel the weight of his gaze drilling into him despite the dark lenses.

"Raph. Explain." Leo ordered shortly, voice as emotionless as his face. Don felt Raph tense with rage at the command, mouth opening to voice the furious retort rising in his throat as started forward. Don's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden impending explosion, and he put a restraining hand on Raph's shoulder to try and stop a physical attack and remind him of why they'd brought Leo here in the first place. Flashing gold eyes turned to him, but Don held his gaze until Raph looked away with an annoyed growl. He stopped moving forward, but remained standing between Leo and Don.

"There's not much of a story to tell" Don began, and he heard a slight intake of air from both his eldest and youngest brother at the sound of his voice. "I don't know much of what's going on either. All I know is that I woke up in the Lair a few weeks ago, and everything was different. I can't remember how I got there or why, and I initially wasn't even aware of the amount of time that had passed. I started searching the city, and ran into Raph earlier tonight."

"I told him the basics 'bout what happened," Raph cut in, traces of his previous anger still lingering in his tone. "All the shit with the Shredder an' the city. Bit 'bout the family too, so he's not completely lost." Mike looked like he was starting to gain control of himself again, and Leo looked on with a calculating gaze. Leo walked a bit farther into the room, though he stopped a safe distance from the other two.

"… Don," Leo started, and he could hear an almost imperceptible waver in his voice when he said his name. "What happened the first time we met Leatherhead?" Caught off guard, Don frowned in slight confusion at the sudden shift in topic, and it was a moment before Don understood what Leo was trying to do. It was a test, and one he could easily pass. He opened his mouth to answer, but it was Raph who responded first.

"Don doesn't have ta play twenty questions for ya, Leo." Raph snarled.

Leo looked like he was going to respond with some cutting remark, but Don cut in before he could start. "It's fine." He responded, staring at his most violate brother in reassurance. "It makes sense to do some preliminary questions; just to be sure I at least have the right memories." He turned back to Leo. "To answer your question, I'd asked Mikey to do some underwater wielding for me, and he was attacked by Leatherhead. He'd been staying in our old Lair after the Utroms left." From the corner of his eyes he saw Mike shift slightly at the mention of his old nickname.

Leo nodded, though his face didn't change. "What did Shredder do at our initial meeting?"

"He tried to convince you to join him and attempted to bribe you with a famous katana. Obviously, it failed."

Another brief nod. "Why did you choose the bō as your weapon?"

"The long answer or the short one?" Don asked wryly. They both knew how personal their choice could go, but he doubted Leo was looking for an introspective analysis. "I preferred the long range of the weapon and the control it afforded me in battle."

Leo's stance relaxed marginally after the correct answer, though he continued his questioning. "During the Battle Nexus, who was I fighting when the Daimyo's son poisoned me?"

Don smiled, satisfied at the good question - of their enemies, he doubted any of them would have had any access to the Nexus. "Usagi; he was rather miffed at the dishonorable ending to the fight."

"What was my greatest fear as a child?" Another good question; after all, who would guess such a good ninja would have had such an ironic phobia?

"You were terrified of heights. Master Splinter tricked you into overcoming it when we were ten," Don answered. "You never did specify exactly how."

To his relief, that was the last question. Leo stepped back to lean against a wall, arms folded and body language back under control, while Raph let out a satisfied harrumph that he'd been proven right.

It was Mike that came forward with the next doubt. "You said you just 'found him' somewhere? After all these years" he dubiously asked. He seemed to have recovered most of his equilibrium, though he was very pointedly not looking at Don.

"Did ya hear that explosion before?" Raph asked. At both Leo and Mike's nods, he continued. "That was Don, tryin' ta draw our attention. Obviously it worked, though he did mess up an' run into some Foot grunts first."

Mike grimaced at the news. "Shit. So they know about… _this_ too."

"Yep. An' knowin' Shredder, he'll go batshit tryin' ta figure out what's goin' on. Yer gonna have ta warn people ta be extra careful fer the next couple of weeks 'till he calms down a bit."

"Well that's just perfect." Mike muttered, closing his eyes briefly in consternation at the situation.

In the brief lull that followed, Don took a moment to study the room. Mike was lost in thought, brow furrowed as he thought through the situation. He was probably contemplating the potential effect on the Rebellion, odd as it was to see their youngest brother lost in serious planning. Leo was still by the door, his back to the wall and half-hidden face unreadable as he observed him. And Raph was still standing protectively beside him, as if he didn't trust his remaining brothers. None of them looked motivated to break the silence between them.

Impulsively, Don turned to ask Mike a question about the state of the Rebellion, but stopped as he heard Mike let out a strangled gasp from where he'd been standing. Suddenly moving, Mike stalked up to him, brushing past Raph without even glancing at him. Raph half reached out to stop him, but paused and waited to see what he would do instead, stance slightly too wide to be casual. Don turned a questioning gaze at his suddenly close brother, but the later stayed silent, then roughly grabbed his arm and turned it to face the light.

Don flinched as Mike's hand gripped him with bruising force and put his own hand on his brother's wrist in an instinctual attempt to loosen his grasp. Ignoring Raph's shout of surprise and his own confusion, Don looked at Mike for some sort of explanation, but his face was unreadable and blue eyes ice cold. Abruptly, his eyes narrowed and face twisted in rage.

"This isn't Don." Mike growled furiously, still staring intently at his arm. "It's a _fake._" He threw Don's arm down in disgust, and Don took a few steps back from the naked emotions on his face. His eyes had darkened coldly in anger that twisted his face into something foreign, but there was also a barely hidden, pained betrayal. As he watched, Mike put his hand on his nunchuck and widened his pose into a fighting stance, as if preparing to attack him. Don could only stand there in stunned silence, not quite believing his brother would actually attack him.

"What are ya talkin' 'bout, Mike?" Raph rumbled coldly, and Don was disturbed to see that his hand had also gravitated towards the handle of his sai as he once again stepped between them. They looked like they were preparing to fight each other, and Leo only stood to the side, eyes hard, as he waited for an explanation. That, even more than the accusation, frightened him.

"He's missing a scar." Mike accused. When Raph didn't back down, he let out an impatient growl and elaborated. "Back when we were eighteen, Don got a nasty hit during a fight with some Foot. I was the one who fucking sewed it up, and _it's not there._"

Ignoring Raph's startled eye, he turned back to Don. "Now. What the _hell _are you?"

"W-wait a minute, Mike." Don said, trying to make sense of the sudden furious accusation. He stepped out from behind Raph's bulk to look him in the eyes, and Mike paused as they made eye contact. "You said _eighteen_? But… that doesn't make sense. I'm only sixteen. I never even _got _a scar like that."

And that was another, frightening revelation in the chaos of the changes. If Mike had memories of him that Don himself couldn't remember… it was a bad sign, and yet another inexplicable piece of information he had to deal with.

"Well, that's awfully convenient." Mike took another menacing step forward, now almost right in front of Raph and looking prepared to fight him to get to Don. This time, it was Leo who reached out to Mike and stopped the impending fight.

"I think he's telling the truth." Leo said firmly and, though his words were aimed at Mike, he kept his probing gaze locked on Don. "He doesn't seem to be lying. He really believes what he's saying. Whether or not it's true, he does think he's our brother and he definitely has the right memories." Now mildly rebuking, he continued. "In any case, I doubt intimidation would gain us any more answers."

Mike gave a bitter grunt of resentment, looking for a moment like he'd ignore his older brother's input, but obediently stepped back to a more comfortable distance.

"So what? Some sort of clone?" Mike accused callously, though less heatedly than before.

"_What?_" Don asked, insulted. "There's no _way _I'm a… _clone._" He could barely say the word. Didn't want to think about the absurd possibility of being somehow _fake. _But neither Leo nor Raph said anything, and Don felt a sickening feeling grow in his stomach. "It's _not _possible, right?" he asked in growing trepidation.

There was a beat of awkward silence before Leo answered. "It might be," he said quietly.

"Ah, shell," Don muttered. It might be. That wasn't a real answer at all- neither negative nor positive, and it didn't explain anything. But it did imply one dangerous possibility. "There's actually _cloning _now?"

Raph cut in with a derisive snort. "Not _stable_ ones," he said. He sent a quick glance at Don. "Or smart. Failed experiments, all of 'em, an' half the time they're jus' mindless grunts. Nothin' even close ta this level."

"Who?" Don asked in disgust. Cloning… the thought sent a shiver of revulsion through him. The idea of playing with genes `and creating mindless, mutated creatures like Raph had implied. The idea that _he _might be one of them, merely a byproduct of someone else's experiments, made his skin crawl.

"Bishop. Who else?" Raph answered coldly. "He's still around, an' still obsessed with himself an' makin' his own army." He turned back to Mike. "An' he's smart enough ta known not ta fuck around with somethin' like this."

"Bishop isn't the only one with the tech to do this," Mike cut in darkly. "And Shredder wouldn't have to worry about pissing us off. I can think of a dozen schemes he could use with something like this."

"An' how many of them start with him alone in th' old Lair?" Raph countered. "Why the hell would they bother sneakin' him in there?"

"How am _I_ supposed to know what those nutjobs are thinking?"

Don watched the argument with dread, unwilling to interject. His throat was so dry he wasn't even sure he'd be able to speak at this point. They were, essentially, discussing whether or not he was real. Worse, Don didn't have a solid argument for why he _wasn't _fake. Only that he sure as shell didn't feel like it, and that wasn't factual at all.

"This argument isn't going anywhere," Leo interrupted the two mid-rant, annoyance barely audible in his voice. "We need to decide what to do about this."

Raph huffed in annoyance and sent Leo a glare, but surprisingly held his tongue. Don said a silent thanks, grateful for the end of _that _argument, even if both of them seemed extremely reluctant to follow Leo's decision.

"'We need a way to tell if he is a… clone." Leo continued, ignoring the other two's glares, at him and each other. "At the very least, we need to know whether or not he's being tracked. I'm no scientist, but I'm betting there's a way to find out. Mike?"

Mike frowned and let out an audible hiss of air to get his temper under control, but nodded. "Yeah, we should have the tools to check for anything unusual. We'd need to use the portable stuff, but that should be enough for finding any bugs at least. I'm not sure about the cloning."

Leo nodded sharply. "Good enough for now. How soon can it be done?"

"Should be within the hour, at the latest," Mike answered after a moment's thought.

Don let out an inaudible gasp at the timeframe. "That soon?" he asked nervously. He wanted to know, and he sure as shell wanted to disprove the idea immediately, and yet… an hour wasn't a very long time at all.

"Yeah," Mike answered. "We'd only need to transfer the equipment to a better spot. Base ends up moving so often we try to keep everything important ready to move, just in case. No point in waiting. "

Don nodded halfheartedly, doing his best to ignore the spike of nervousness. Or at least not let it show. It was better to get it over with as soon as possible anyway. "And after that? What do we do then?"

"That depends on what we find. If we find something, we'll deal with it then. If not…" Mike shrugged halfheartedly. "Not sure."

"I was thinkin' we'd bring him ta the Rebellion if we didn't find anythin'," Raph cut in. "It'd be able ta keep him safe and away from Shredder, plus he'd be able ta help them with some of the tech stuff."

"No." Mike said coldly, and the other three looked back at him at the steel in his voice. "He's not staying in the Rebellion."

There was a moment of stunned silence after Mike's declaration, and Don felt shards of ice twist in his chest. If Mike didn't let him in, that was it. And Mike didn't look like he was going to change his mind. He was glaring at the other three, hand firmly back on his weapon. Don glanced at his other brothers to get an idea of their reactions. Leo barely revealed a flicker of surprise at Mike's declaration, but Raph was absolutely livid.

"Why the hell not!" Raph exploded, staring at Mike as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Because it's not safe!" Mike argued, eyes narrowing at Raph's challenge. "Bottom line is, we _don't _know why this is happening. Either we prove he's a clone and can't risk falling into a trap, or it was something unknown and we can't trust him anyway! _Someone's _trying to manipulate us, and I don't like it. I'm not going to risk everything we've done on some gamble."

"An' that's why we're gonna do the damn tests!" Raph growled. "Ta make sure it's safe, like ya want it. If yer lookin' for some sorta confirmation of what happened, guess what? Yer not gonna get it. This is _Donnie_. Even if ya can't trust his sudden appearance, he can _help _us where we need it. An' I'm not gonna let ya fuck up the best chance the Rebellion's gonna have ta stop Shredder 'cause you're so hung up on yerself!"

"You lost the _right _to make decisions for the Rebellion when you left." Mike lowly, venomously replied, and Don could hear years of an old, festering wound in the statement. It was obviously a painful memory, one of the ones that had caused the split in their family after his disappearance, and there was a flicker of emotions- sorrow and regret- over Raph's face at the reminder. Whatever had happened when Raph left Mike and the Rebellion… It sounded like another one of the stories he didn't want to hear.

"Ya still need 'im." Raph said flatly.

"Have you been listening to a _thing _I-"

"Ya need Don's help," Raph continued regardless, cutting him off. "Ya might not like it, but the Rebellion needs his help. We both know how far 'bove all of us Shredder is with his tech, an' nobody's had a chance in hell of catchin' up ta him since he got the Utroms. _That's_ the reason we're still losin'. But Don can. Don _has, _all the other times we've gone 'gainst Shredder an' the other aliens. He's been able ta understand the tech an' security, ta find a way ta_ stop _things he'd never even seen before. He's the best chance we'll _ever _have at findin' a way ta stop Shredder."

Don stared, shocked, at Raph after his analysis. He hadn't thought he would that important… Sure, he knew just how intelligent he was and he was sure he'd be able to make a difference if he just got the chance to work with the Rebellion, but Raph sounded almost like he believed he could turn the war around singlehandedly.

Mike's stance softened slightly in indecision, some of Raph's points starting to get to him. He turned to their eldest brother for support. "Leo…"

But to Mike's disappointment, Leo didn't take his side. "Surprisingly enough, Raph has a point," Leo slightly reluctantly answered. "Remember what Don could _do _before we lost him. You can't deny how much he could do back then, even if we didn't appreciate it at the time. If you don't accept him into the Rebellion, the chance of Shredder managing to find him increases exponentially."

Mike's face tightened slightly at Leo's last line, and Don could read some worry in the quick look he sent at him. He gave a bitter smile. "Shit," he breathed. "So you're both against me on this."

"Think it over, Mike." Leo advised, voice gentler in acknowledgement of the hard choice he had to make. "We have time before a decision needs to be made, at least until the preliminary tests are run. Try to look at it impartially- separate your personal feelings from the choice you need to make."

Mike nodded halfheartedly, contemplating the decision that would shape Don's involvement in their fight.

~.*.~


	7. Trials and Tribulations

Trials and Tribulations

~.*.~

"Round and round we spin, with feet of lead and wings of tin." –Kurt Vonnegut

~.*.~

The old Rebellion safe house, or at least the small section he'd been brought to, was not like he'd expected. It was bigger for one, and cleaner than he'd anticipated. The outside of the building had the same unremarkable, falling down appearance as the surrounding ones, as did the first floor they came to. It wasn't until Mike led them to the lower levels that things started to change.

The way down was actually a deceptively unstable looking section of rubble. The hallway ended with a sudden drop-off into what looked like a chaotic spread of debris to the next floor down. It wasn't until Mike jumped easily down into the pile and landed on an unexpectedly stable pathway that Don realized it was anything other than a dead end.

While they had stayed there, the Rebels had created the unorthodox entrance and blocked off the stairs. As a ninja, it was easy for them to navigate the rubble, and Don was sure that if he looked he could pick out a pathway of stable footholds that the more normal recruits had once used to enter.

From there on, the building showed faint signs of its previous occupation. The halls were cleaner; any rubble had been removed or placed carefully to the side, and the layer of dust under their feet was smaller. The generators had left with the Rebellion, so the four of them were forced to move by lamp light as Mike led them through the hallways. Their footsteps, slight as they were, echoed ominously in the empty corridors.

They had left Raph's place soon after their conversation finished. There hadn't been anything else to say, and it wasn't long before Mike announced they could leave. Mike had explained, rather curtly, on the way there that they were traveling to one of the more recently abandoned safe house.

The Rebels had kept careful track of the Foot's patrol routes in the city, and had been forced to leave when some had begun to creep a bit too close to the area. So far as they knew, the Foot had no knowledge of its location. It was as safe a place as they were going to get.

As they made their way across the rooftops, Don found himself feeling surprisingly out of place. It wasn't just that their old formation was in tatters, or the odd, tense silence between them. It was also in the way they _moved_. There was none of their old theatrics, understandably, but he still hadn't expected it to be quite so… somber.

All three of them were silent, precise, _deadly _as they ran_. _They held themselves as if they were expecting a battle to break out, or a patrol to appear at any moment. They moved with a predatorial grace, blending into the shadows so well he doubted passersby would see anything more than a blur of movement even if they stared right at them. He even kept losing sight of Leo to the shadows for seconds at a time, no matter how hard he tried to keep all three of them in his sights.

Mike was leading the way, but neither of their older brothers seemed to actually be following. They ran more beside him, taking their own routes along the same buildings while dutifully ignoring the others. Since he still had to rely on Mike's lead, Don was forced to trail slightly behind.

He had the most annoying feeling that the others were slowing down, keeping slightly more out in the open then they normally would for his sake. Particularly Raph, who never seemed to be more than a moment away from his side. Don was actually starting to feel a bit outclassed by these new versions of his brothers, and he made a silent vow to get one of his brothers to help him train after things started to settle down.

Then Mike stopped in front of the nondescript building, halting so suddenly Don nearly stumbled at the sudden change. All identifying characteristics of the building, inside and out, had long since disappeared, but he'd guess that it had used to be some sort of hospital; rather fitting considering the purpose of their trip. Mike picked up the old, half hidden lantern as they entered the building, though he didn't light it until they were far from any window.

After they reached the section the Rebellion had actually used, they entered one of the closest rooms to the entrance. Entering first, Mike set down the dim light on a rickety table in the center and stood to the side. The room was more than large enough to fit the four of them comfortably. Aside from the table and a few unsteady looking chairs, it was empty.

Leo was last, and he paused at the threshold of the room. "I'll do a sweep of the area," he abruptly announced, already half facing back the way they'd came.

Raph let out a snort, but Mike gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, barely a jerk of his head, and Leo left the room. He didn't bring a light with him, and Don quickly lost sight of him as he was swallowed by the blackness. Leo didn't even hesitate as he left the circle of light, but he had always been skilled in using his other senses. He'd probably gotten used to traveling in darkness over the years.

The silence stretched on, and neither Raph nor Mike looked like they were going to break it. Both were lost in thought, and Don's gaze flickered between them. "So, how is this going to work?" Don asked, half curious and half just to break the uncomfortable quiet.

Mike looked up and shrugged lightly. "It shouldn't take too long. There's not very much equipment we can just move around unnoticed like this." He paused, giving the entryway a quick glance. "I'm having someone I know we can trust come over here now. They were the one who radioed- shouldn't be too long 'till they arrive."

"Who?" Don asked curiously.

Surprisingly, Mike let out a rare smile at that. "An old friend- someone you'll actually know. A certain crocodile we've known for a long, long time."

"Leatherhead!" Don exclaimed hopefully, and Mike nodded with an almost imperceptible widening of his smirk. With a flash of guilt, Don realized that in chaos of the past weeks, he had nearly forgotten about the intelligent crocodile. It was a relief to hear he was still alive.

He'd become close friends with Leatherhead after their escape from Bishop's lab, and had come to respect the larger mutant as he helped him adjust to his new home. His relief dimmed slightly as he remembered it had been thirty years since they'd last spoken, and he'd already discovered just how much of a difference that could make.

"Are there any… changes I should be aware of before he arrives?" he asked carefully.

"No," Mike answered, easily knowing what he really meant. "Obviously he's gonna be different from what you remember, but nothing special. He's essentially our top scientist at Base, so he hasn't seen combat as often as the rest of us."

"_Top_ scientist?" he prompted. From the way he said it, respectful and almost warm, it sounded like there was a story there.

Mike gave an almost pleased nod. "Yep. He's smart. Smarter than I used to give him credit for, and good at keeping everything running smoothly. He's trustworthy too, which is rarer than I'd like. Besides," His tone turned bitter, "there haven't exactly been a lot of new scientists since Shredder took over."

Don's previously good mood evaporated as the weight of reality returned. There wasn't anything he could say in response, and he was decades too late to fix anything. So he let the room descend back into silence, and left each to their thoughts

From his vantage point at the back of the room, it wasn't long before Don caught a glimpse of a dim light bobbing its way towards them. The lantern jumped and dipped as its bearer silently made his way across the uneven floor. It was still far enough away that he couldn't make out more than a shadowy shape, but even without the hints of his unmistakable build there was only one person it could be.

Leatherhead drifted into focus quickly. The flickering light made a stranger out of the crocodile, and the sharp contrasts between firelight and shadow gave him a foreboding presence. The vision was emphasized by his new presence. The crocodile glided across the flooring despite his girth, moving silently and quickly as a trained fighter would.

His old white lab coat had been exchanged for a muted brown color that disguised much of the lighter sections of his plating. Mike was right in that he'd been less affected by the war, but he was still far from unscathed. A large burn scar ran up the side of his head and disappeared into the dark coat, and darkness shadowed a deep gouge along his jaw.

However, as Leatherhead drew closer, his previously intimidating visage dissipated like smoke. Leatherhead didn't act remotely threatening- his expression was guarded, colder than it had once been, but underneath it he could see a jumbled mix of uncertain hope and, as he stepped fully into the room, sharp wonder.

"Donatello," he breathed, his voice deep and reassuringly familiar. Leatherhead took a half step forward, bringing him within reach. His hand started to reach up, jaw moving soundlessly, but he jerked himself to a stop as he regained control of himself. He retracted his hand sheepishly. "I… apologize. I had- I wasn't quite able to believe you had truly returned, my old friend."

"Considering the circumstance, it's more than understandable," Don admitted, smiling reassuringly up at the crocodile. "I still can't quite believe what's going on myself."

Leatherhead relaxed at the sound of his voice, finally taking the last few steps to Don's side and putting a large hand on his shoulder. "It is… good to have you back," he said simply, voice thick with emotion.

From beside them, Mike shuffled impatiently, and the scrape of his foot was loud in the small room. "Do you have the supplies?" Mike interrupted. "I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

Leatherhead cleared his throat before answering, voice surprisingly steady. "I do," he replied. He stepped back so he could carefully take off a large canvas bag he'd had slung over his shoulder. He settled it on the table with the low, familiar clink of well-padded glass. "I brought all the necessary tools. Unfortunately, without a proper lab I will only be able to do the preliminary tests."

"I know," Mike answered curtly.

Don felt an echoing flash of dismay at Leatherhead's response, but kept silent. Much as he dreaded finding out exactly what was wrong with him, the uncertainty of not having a clue what was going on was far worse. The thought of being trapped in that uncertain limbo indefinitely sent a shiver of dread through him, but childishly protesting something he knew couldn't be changed was worse than useless, so he kept silent.

Leatherhead busied himself with removing the contents of his case. He carefully unwrapped several glass vials from the makeshift med-kit, some empty, others not, and set them on the table. Different colored fluids glimmered mysteriously in the lamplight, each one carefully labeled, if too small to identify from a distance.

As he watched Leatherhead setup, Don felt his fingers itch with the desire to get involved. He'd tried to identify some of the substances in the beakers by sight, but couldn't name them off the top of his head. Still… even if he couldn't lead the experiment, he had more than enough experience with chemicals to act as an assistant. He walked up beside the older mutant and asked determinedly, "What can I do to help?"

Leatherhead hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "Although I would appreciate the assistance, I'm afraid I must decline. Considering the… circumstance, it would be best if I performed the experiments alone."

Don frowned at the rebuff, but reluctantly let it go. It made sense. He was, after all, the subject of the tests. He still had to bite his tongue a few times to stop himself from asking questions about the unfamiliar, electronic-looking equipment when Leatherhead pulled it out of his bag.

Leatherhead worked quickly and silently. He began by systematically taking both blood and skin samples, thoroughly cleaning the instruments with what smelled like alcohol before starting. He methodically separated the samples into several different vials and started mixing and measuring it among what he'd brought.

As he worked, Don found himself fascinated by the crocodile's deft movements. As a self-taught scientist, he could appreciate the precise movements. Leatherhead was lost in his experiments, and Don understood much less of what he was doing than he would have liked.

Honestly, Don had never really considered himself much of a medic. His specialty was machines and devices, and it always had been. The only reason he'd started teaching himself how to treat injuries was for his brothers, and even then he only focused on the common battle injuries. Broken bones and deep cuts he could deal with. Experimental diagnostics, not so much. He'd simply never been interested in the field, and this was the first time he'd ever had cause to regret his disinterest.

While Don was distracted watching Leatherhead, Leo had somehow managed to slip back in. Leatherhead was just starting to mix a blood sample with a clear, viscous liquid when Don caught sight of his oldest brother out of the corner of his eye, leaning casually against the wall.

Don started at the unexpected reappearance- he hadn't even sensed his brother's presence, something he'd thought he'd managed to perfect years ago. Apparently not. Nobody else looked surprised to see him standing by the entrance, still half cloaked in shadows. Feeling his gaze, Leo gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, and Don turned back to Leatherhead, flushing lightly in embarrassment.

Not long after that, Leatherhead turned to face him for the first time since taking the samples, one of the unfamiliar devices in hand. It was old and scuffed, but showed signs of careful upkeep. "I'm going to need to take a quick scan of your body. Stay as still as possible for a few moments, if you can."

Don nodded, dutifully freezing in place, and Leatherhead fiddled with the small monitor on the handheld device. He stared at the machine with unrestrained curiosity. "I suppose this is something else I'm not allowed to ask about?" he asked wryly.

Leatherhead looked up long enough to give him an amused smile before turning back to the electronic in his hand. "If you'll consent to waiting a little longer, I can give an explanation for at least this as soon as the scan is complete." With that, Leatherhead flipped a small switch on the side of the device, and it crackled to life.

The screen flashed for a moment as Leatherhead twisted it, looking intently at whatever result it was showing him. He let out a low, thoughtful sound- one Don recognized from months of working with him- and ran the scan again. The answer apparently satisfied him, as the crocodile set the device back onto the table and stared thoughtfully at the setup.

When Leatherhead looked too caught up in thought to answer his previous question, Don asked, "So what did you find?"

Leatherhead glanced back at him, and some of Don's worry bled out of him at Leatherhead relaxed expression. "Some good news. _Very _good news," Leatherhead stated, pleased. "So far as I can tell, you're clean of any bugs." He gestured to the device. "To answer your earlier question, this is used to detect foreign devices. Electronic trackers and the like which could potentially have been implanted. Even inactivated, such devices give off minute disturbances that this is capable of detecting."

"And you didn't find anything," Don confirmed.

"Nothing."

Don paused for a moment, just staring at the device for a few seconds. For such a sophisticated device, it looked suspiciously delicate along the rough wood of the table. "Just how reliable is it?"

"Extremely." Leatherhead replied, with no small amount of pride. "We developed it ourselves many years ago, and we've been updating it continually for decades. It doesn't touch any biological abnormalities, but we haven't yet found an electronic discrepancy it can't detect."

"Meanin' Don ain't being tracked," Raph's voice cut in suddenly, the start of a small smirk dancing smugly on the edge of his scarred face. The two scientists started at the reminder of the other three staring intently at the experiments.

Leatherhead nodded. "Most likely… Yes. I can't say it's impossible, but it's more than simply a good sign."

Don let out a relieved breath of air, feeling like a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn't being tracked. Leatherhead was right- that _was _good news. Knowing he wasn't betraying his brothers just by _being_ near them simplified the situation. Besides, it was reassuring in itself that there hadn't been something implanted in his body.

At the lull in the work, Leo cut in, "Have you found anything else yet?"

One of the unidentified tubes started to bubble, prompting Leatherhead to turn back to the table. "Patience. I'll be finished in only a few minutes but…" He glanced back with a short reassurance. "Thus far, everything's reacted as expected."

True to his word, Leatherhead stepped back from the experiments a short time later and started the lengthy process of cleaning and putting the equipment back away. He flushed the used chemicals and blood out, colors mixing spasmodically along the floor.

As he continued packing up, Leatherhead began his explanation. "As you have likely inferred, there have been several attempts at artificially modifying life in past years. Some attempts have been more successful than others, but they've always had something in common. Universal abnormalities, often in the blood composition- telltale signs of artificial influence. All of which were, thankfully, missing from your bloodstream."

"Most notably, the artificial structures are prone to degeneration. The accelerated growth tends to leave slight chemical instabilities in the tissue and cells, which can be amplified into visibility through certain chemical compounds. Such cells are never as stable as the original. If your body is in any way artificial, then the chemical makeup is perfect. Even the mutagen has been reacting as expected, which, considering the fickleness of its composition, would be nigh impossible to duplicate."

Don listened intently to the explanation, but he couldn't help but voice his doubt. "Seems like a rather imprecise way to decide something," he mused.

Leatherhead shook his head. "There's definitely a margin for error, but it's a more effective assessment than you'd think. I've had considerable opportunities to study the effects of the mutagen. Far more than anyone else who would have attempted to duplicate it, and I wouldn't even know where to begin to recreate the substance. "

Don nodded, deep in thought as he considered the situation. "Hopefully you'll be able to give me more in-depth information sometime, when there's more time," Don said. Generalities were necessary, but this was one subject he'd definitely prefer to know as much as possible on.

"I'll look forward to it, old friend," Leatherhead affirmed.

Leatherhead then turned towards their three spectators for the first time since he started his explanation, focusing on their reaction as he continued speaking. "Essentially, I have been unable to find any indication pointing towards Donatello being some sort of clone."

Don could see Leo relax marginally against the wall- a telling concession for the more stoic turtle. Raph smirked at the news, even sending Mike a smug glance at being proven right that Don wasn't a threat. Mike himself seemed to be torn between relief and aggravation.

"So we're right back to square one again," he muttered irritably. "Not having a clue what's going on"

Raph's pleased smirk disappeared and he glared heatedly at his younger brother. "Ya almost sound like ya _wanted _Don ta be a fake," he fumed.

"What I _want_ is an explanation for what the hell's going on." Mike retorted. "If the tests had been positive, then at least we'd know-"

Mike cut himself off, eyes abruptly zeroing in on Leo. The other two tensed as well, but it was a moment before Don registered the sudden shift and turned to face his eldest brother. Leo was deathly still; face taunt and his hand resting along a hidden spot in his coat.

He suddenly, violently swore- a low sound, made all the more threatening because it was _Leo_ cursing. Raph, Mike, and Leatherhead immediately tensed at the sound. Raph's hand was fingering the hilt of his sai; Mike's was resting warily against his nunchuck. Leatherhead swung his equipment onto his back and all three shifted almost unconsciously towards the exit.

"Leo?" Don asked apprehensively. His eyes briefly flickered around the room, and his initial confusion dissolved into determination. Something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"We need to move." Leo tersely declared. "Something just entered the building."

Don felt a spark of alarm, and a muttered curse echoed behind him at the confirmation. "How would you-" Don stopped himself as something clicked, answering his own question. "Your patrol. You set up something while you were checking the building."

Leo inclined his head minutely in answer, but his attention was focused on Mike.

"How many," Mike ordered sharply, and Don was hit by a sudden sense of _wrongness_ at the authority in his tone, at _Leo _of all people. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind- this definitely wasn't the time- and paid attention to the present.

"Unknown," Leo answered just as curtly, though his authoritative attitude was far more familiar on him. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword in tense annoyance. "It was a single-use setup. Only lets me know if someone uses an entrance- they came through the main entry."

"Too close." Mike muttered darkly. "If they have any idea where they're going… They could be halfway down the hall by now, setting up the trap. How the hell did they even know we're here? Dammit, this place was supposed to be _safe._"

"Figure it out later. We need to move. Now," Leo declared. "It'll be a minute before they're here- more, if they're setting up an ambush. We can't afford to waste time."

"If we leave, they'll find a way to follow. What we need is a distraction," Mike mused. He caught Leo's gaze meaningfully. Then he turned to the others, sparing only a brief glance at Don. "I'll do it. You two- get Donnie out of here."

Without even waiting for an answer, he was gone.

Don caught a flicker of the back of Mike's shell as he ran out the door, but he was gone before Don could even get the breath to argue. He could only stare speechlessly as Mike's form disappeared. Alone. Without a plan, and against an unknown number of enemies. Leo didn't even _try_ to stop him as he ran past, only watching him go with a calculating look.

"You- You're just going to let Mikey go after them by himself?" Don sputtered, unintentionally slipping back into his younger brother's old nickname. He stared uncomprehendingly at his older brothers, who didn't even seem to be _worried _about Mike.

Raph got a decidedly odd look on his face. "Ya haven't seen any of us fight yet, have ya." When Don shook his head, he continued. "Long as it's only the normal goons, ya don't have ta worry 'bout Mike. Trust me. We're all 'lot stronger than what ya remember."

That wasn't enough of a reason to let him head off on his own. Shell, they'd been capable of fighting the Foot goons alone back when he remembered, and they still hadn't allowed each other to head off alone. Leo would have thrown a fit if they'd even suggested it, but now he barely seemed to care about the danger.

"That doesn't-" Don started, but he was quickly cut off. By Leo this time.

"Our first priority is getting you out of danger- Mike was right about that," Leo stated implacably. Sensing his continued worry, Leo continued more gently. "If something unexpected happens and he gets in over his head, Mike will call us."

"We just need ta get _movin' _'fore one of 'em finds their way down here an' sounds the alarm." Raph snapped. He strode angrily out of the room, but Raph couldn't completely hide a brief glance upwards to where Mike would be, and Don was slightly reassured by the hidden signs of concern.

They were barely out the door before the 'plan' started to fall apart. A loud blast suddenly rang out from above them, followed by the concussive, groaning crash as what sounded like a few walls collapsing above them. Time froze for a moment as the small tremors around them subsided, but the rest of the worn building remained standing.

"What the shell was that?" Don asked quickly, looking to the other two for an answer.

"Somethin' more powerful than what _should _be in a normal patrol," Raph growled. He was already starting to move towards the half-blocked entrance they'd used. As he started to pass by Leo, he paused for a moment.

Leo and Raph looked at each other in silent communication, and for once there wasn't any anger clouding their expressions. There was only determination, and an unspoken agreement.

"Leatherhead," Leo ordered. "You're in charge of Don. Get him out of here safely."

Don saw Leatherhead give a short nod out of the corner of his eye, but he could only stare in disbelief at his older brother. Leo had just ordered him to stay out of a fight. It was one thing to let Mike go up to as a diversion. They'd done things like that before, though never so unorganized or with the same amount of danger. It was quite another thing to stay behind while everyone else was heading into a full out battle.

Don felt a rush of indignation at the thought- not just the insult to his skill level, but that they actually thought he would willingly let his brothers put themselves in danger without him. But before Don could voice his protest, Leo and Raph turned around and, completely ignoring him, started off along the dark path.

"Oh, no way," Don muttered, preparing to leap after them. He was just starting to move when a large hand clamped around his upper arm, yanking him back to the ground. He turned to see _Leatherhead_ physically forcing him to stay behind. Don stared at him in disbelief, but the larger mutant easily met his gaze.

"Let me go," Don demanded, his voice dangerously quiet. His eyes darted towards where his brothers had gone, but they were already almost out of his sights. Don tried to force his arm out of Leatherhead's hold, but his grip was far stronger than he'd expected.

Belatedly, he remembered that the larger mutant had also gained combat experience over the years. Switching tactics, Don's other hand shot up towards the pressure points on his wrist, to force him to let go, but Leatherhead easily caught his wrist with his other hand.

"You are not prepared for this fight, Donatello." Leatherhead's voice was calm, controlled, and Don felt a flare of anger at his casual dismissal of his ability. He tried to force his hands free again, but Leatherhead's iron grip didn't budge. Don didn't have enough leverage against the larger mutant to break himself free, and the flare of anger grew.

"I am not helpless," Don snarled at the crocodile. "I'm not even injured, and I _refuse_ to just stand aside while my brothers are fighting."

"You are _not_ prepared for this." Leatherhead repeated. He cut off Don's rising protests. "Things have changed while you were missing. The world is _different _now, and far more dangerous than what you have known. The Foot has had thirty years to develop. You may be skilled, but you know nothing of their strategies and even less of the technology they now use. If you try to fight now, you'll only get yourself killed."

Don wanted to protest. He wanted to say that he'd be able to take care of himself in battle, that he'd more than proved himself against the Foot in his own time, but the words died in his throat. Because Leatherhead was probably right.

Things had changed. Much as he hated to admit it, he was still almost as lost in this new world as he'd been when he first stumbled into it. And the Foot had changed more than he'd thought possible. His 'mission' inside the factory had blown up spectacularly. All because he hadn't known enough information. He'd gone in prepared for the traps and security he'd known in his own time. He hadn't even considered the possibility of unfamiliar security measures, and had vastly underestimated the Foot because of it. If it hadn't been for Raph, he would have been captured or outright killed.

He couldn't make that mistake again.

Sensing his reluctant acquiescence, Leatherhead released first one wrist, then the other. "You must trust that your brothers can take care of themselves in battle."

Leatherhead turned, a hand on the back of Don's shoulder insuring he followed, and started moving into a new corridor, deeper into the building. Don frowned in confusion- the half-destroyed entrance had looked like the only way to ground level- but kept moving nonetheless. It didn't stop him from questioning his guide though.

"Where are we going?"

Leatherhead answered without turning. "There are a few old tunnels that connect these lower levels to sections of one of the adjacent buildings. It was one of the reasons that the building was chosen." They stopped beside a large, thin sheet of metal leaning unobtrusively against the wall.

Don was barely surprised when Leatherhead pushed it easily to the side to reveal a carved dirt passageway, barely more than a hole in the ground but large enough for Leatherhead to fit through. "This one opens up into the floor of a nearby building, hopefully far enough away from the fighting as to be unnoticed when we leave.

"And if it's not?"

Leatherhead's face darkened, the movement almost predatorial, and Don could see a shadow of the fighter that the once pacifist had become. His voice rumbled lowly as he spoke. "Then you'll get your wish, and we'll fight alongside your brothers."

Don couldn't help but pause at the entrance to the small tunnel to glance back. Logically, this was the best tactic. He was a complete stranger here, and the more time he wasted second guessing himself, the worse their chances became. Still… it felt like they were running away. Making excuses to justify staying away. It felt _wrong._

Turning into the passage, Don followed Leatherhead away from the fight.

~.*.~

**AN**- … yeah, it's been a ridiculously long time since I updated. Honestly, this should have been up… about three months ago now. Whoops. School, soccer, and a growing adoration of a new fandom took over my life for a while, along with a complete blank for a while on where I'm going with the plot right now. Good news is the next chapter is mostly done already and I actually have a brief outline for about the next five chapters, which is more than I've had for the majority of this fic.

**IMPORTANT EDIT- **I edited last chapter a decent amount, though the only big change is the removal of any mention of Renet. Otherwise, it was all condensing and editing flow/others, so nothing else important. I'm much happier with it now though.

Thanks to Antebellum Hope and Telyra for some suggestions on the last chapter, and Zathura Roy for the help editing/planning.


	8. Final Decisions

Final Decisions

* * *

Decide which is the line of conduct that presents the fewest drawbacks and then follow it out as being the best one, because one never finds anything perfectly pure and unmixed, or exempt from danger.

-Niccolo Machiavelli

* * *

The walk was short, and the two arrived in a building as unnervingly empty as the first had been. They surfaced at what he estimated to be about a block away from the old base; far enough that he couldn't hear even a hint of the fight. Empty streets met them on the surface without even a sign of the Foot. Regardless, Leatherhead didn't stop moving.

He warily led him out of even that building, silently prowling through several well-concealed back alleys. Don was lost within minutes in the maze of narrow streets and half hidden entryways, but Leatherhead didn't even hesitate as he took the convoluted turns. He followed without comment, unwilling to break the oppressive silence of the empty alleyways, and kept his senses open for any hint of the Foot. A squadron of Utroms passed over them once, forcing them to stop in the shadows of an old building, but their presence remained unnoticed.

They were far away before they finally slowed. It was just another nondescript, broken down building, but Leatherhead opened the unlocked a half-hidden door easily and entered quickly. The interior was just as empty as the rest of it, and Don followed him into another windowless room. He took in the bare walls and rotting wood without interest and focused on the only living thing in the room.

Without the threat of discovery, Don finally broke the silence. "Now what?" he asked dully. All he could think about were his brothers fighting the Foot without him, and what would happen to him seemed almost inconsequential in comparison.

"We wait," Leatherhead answered. He silently took a seat against the far wall, leaning against it with his eyes facing the entrance. "Mike will know where to come."

Don frowned at the indefinite answer, but didn't press it. Leatherhead was still visibly prepared for a confrontation, and he had to admit that the terse, battle-ready demeanor from the crocodile was rather daunting. He had no doubt that Leatherhead would never harm him, but Don would need to relearn his personality before he could relax in his presence again. After thirty years, he would have to do that for even his brothers. So Don leaned silently against the far wall and did nothing.

It had to have been at least an hour before his brothers returned.

Don couldn't remember the last time he'd been forced to sit out a fight, let alone without any way to help or even contact his brothers. He hated the nervous tension from knowing they were in danger, and he couldn't stop the occasional surges of guilt at running away. It left him feeling… off balance. Knowing that they could be hurt, and he had no way of helping them.

He couldn't get out of the building and wasn't one for pacing, so he could only fidget silently as the minutes stretched on. Eventually, Leatherhead silently took out some electronic device and started fiddling with the singed wiring inside it. Don recognized what looked like some sort of transmitter and spent a few minutes analyzing the circuitry, but it couldn't hold his attention for long.

It was a long wait.

When they finally came back, Don's highly tuned hearing almost didn't hear their approach through the wall. Only the loud, stuttering creak of the rusted door hinges announced their presence. Raph entered first, and Don caught a brief glimpse of relief in his eye as he entered his sights. There were new patches of dark green bruises visible and an angry line of raw pink flesh on the back of his hand, but nothing noteworthy from the fight.

Mike was after him, a grimace on his face, but Don didn't see his injury for several seconds. Then he shifted, and Don caught sight of the back of his arm. The limb was held carefully against his side, bright streaks of half-dried blood vivid against dark skin. A large gash stretched across his upper arm.

Don immediately stood up and hurried to his side. "Mike! What happened?"

He shrugged noncommittally, eyes already scanning the room instead. "Got nicked by one of the Foot as we were leaving," Mike explained flippantly. "It's nothing bad- _hey!_" Mike jumped as Don grabbed his arm and carefully started probing the edges of the gash with his fingertips. His arm jerked at the hold, more from surprise than anything.

"This needs stitches," Don decided. It hadn't broken any major blood vessels, but the cut was deep and still sluggishly bleeding. "Do you have any supplies on you?"

Mike's arm twitched in his hand, as if he was stopping himself from yanking it out of Don's hold. "That's not necessary. It can wait."

"That doesn't mean it should," Don admonished. It might not have been dangerous, but there was always the risk of infection. Mike _knew_ that- he'd made sure they all knew basic first aid when they were still kids. "This should be treated as soon as possible. It won't take long."

"I got a needle an' thread with me," Raph volunteered from his left. Don looked over, and he was starting to rummage through the pockets on his jacket. "Some disinfectant too."

Raph pulled the materials out, and Don muttered a quiet thanks. He glanced back to the open doorway and was surprised to find it empty. A quick glance around the room revealed that his eldest brother hadn't entered the room without his notice again. "Where's Leo?"

"Keepin' an eye on the buildin' so we don't get 'nother surprise like the last one," Raph answered. Don nodded his acceptance, feeling some relief at the knowledge that nothing would sneak up on them without Leo's notice, and pushed the information to the back of his mind to focus on the task at hand.

Mike hissed almost inaudibly as Don started dabbing the gash with the disinfectant, but his arm finally settled into Don's hold. Don relaxed his grip slightly in response, picked up the offered needle, and started to close the wound.

"Are we in any danger here?" Don asked as he slid the needle through for the first time. It was only half to distract Mike from the pain- he really did need to know the situation.

Mike's voice was carefully controlled when he answered with barely a hint of pain showing through. "Shouldn't be."

Raph scoffed slightly at the response. "Shouldn't a been any trouble at th' last place either," he muttered spitefully. Don glanced at him in surprise at the venom in his voice, but his face was unreadable. His body language, on the other hand, was more telling. His feet were wide in the beginnings of a battle stance and arms crossed, practically radiating hostility, but he didn't balance his weight as if preparing for a fight as he normally did in a serious argument. He didn't look angry so much as… almost protective.

Mike made a low, indistinct noise, but Don couldn't tell if it was due to Raph or the pain in his arm. "They must have found something at the old base and started monitoring it after we left," he said. "This place is different. Less obvious. It's just one of dozens of spots to meet up. We almost never use it."

Raph grumbled but thankfully let the argument drop. Mike seemed calmer than he had initially when Don grabbed his arm, or at least slightly less tense, so Don focused his attention on sewing the wound.

The needle was old, but it was sharp and pierced his skin easily enough. It was a simple thing to get into the rhythm of sewing broken skin back together. He clinically manipulated the bloody flaps of skin together with the ease of experience, ignoring the slight pangs of nausea he always felt at the texture. Without any painkiller it had to be excruciatingly painful, but Mike's arm didn't even tense under his fingertips as he worked.

It was the closest Don had been to his younger brother since they met. With half his mind focusing on the wound, Don let the rest of his attention wander to his patient. Mike's arm was thick with muscle, far more than the teenage Mikey he'd known. Scars, nearly invisible on his dark skin, patterned his arm. Some were so faded he could only feel where their presence interrupted the flow of skin. Don silently lamented their presence; a visible sign of what Mike had lived through.

As he worked, Don wasn't the only one staring. Don only had to glance up to see that Mike had been affected by the once-familiar ritual of fixing a wound. His eyes had softened almost imperceptibly from the murky wall they had been, and he looked lost in thought. He still looked away as soon as Don caught his gaze, but he couldn't stop a small smile at the subtle victory as he went back to sewing up the gash.

Don worked fast, but it was several minutes before he was able to knot the thread and wipe off blood soaked fingers. There weren't any bandages to cover the wound, but at least it was closed up and disinfected. He stepped back from his brother, feeling slightly out of place under the weight of his gaze now that he was done. The contemplative look didn't leave Mike's face as Don cleaned the needle as much as he was able and handed the materials back to Raph.

Don inwardly flinched when he got a clear look at Raph's expression. His eye had darkened in a familiar, growing anger, and Don noticed with dismay the look on his face that meant he was about to go looking for a fight.

Raph spoke almost as soon as he tucked the tools away. "Now what are we suppose ta do?" he asked belligerently, glaring coldly at Mike. "I think ya managed ta prove any place ya pick as 'safe' ain't gonna be trustworthy."

To Don's surprise, Mike met the accusation with a defensive hostility that Don had never seen on him before. He whirled around to face Raph immediately, his face tight in instinctual reaction to the tone. The immediate, almost automatic response would have been more at home from Leo, not Mike, and Don analyzed the new interaction with silent resignation as he watched the argument unfold.

"Don't try to blame this on me," Mike said lowly. "There was no way we could have known the Foot had found the building after we left."

"'_Exactly_," Raph growled. He punctuated the word with a sharp jab at Mike's chest. "We got no way ta know which buildings Shredder's watching and which ones he ain't. No place is safe fer long in this city, an' ya know that as well as I do. You make Don stay out here an' it's only a matter of time 'fore the Foot catch up to 'im."

Mike swatted his hand away from him with enough force that for a moment Don was afraid that the argument would turn physical, but Mike only glared at him. "You and Leo have managed just fine on your own," he spat.

To his relief, Raph finally backed off slightly, swinging around to pace furiously instead. Don didn't miss the brief flash of guilt on Raph's face at the accusation, though he doubted Mike had caught sight of the emotion before anger covered it again. There was a story there he needed to know- why only Mike was part of the Rebellion, and what had caused them to split up in the first place. And if Mike was still angry and Raph visibly guilty years later, then he doubted he would enjoy hearing about it.

At the very least, the mention of the old wound had managed to calm him down slightly. Raph was still just as visibly fuming, but at least they didn't look like they were going to flat out brawl at any moment.

"That was _different," _Raph said forcefully as he turned to look at Mike again, gesturing emphatically with his hands. "We've been avoidin' the Foot for decades- we know what ta do." He glanced briefly at Don, and his frown deepened. "Don doesn't. Hell, he doesn't even know anythin' 'bout the tech Shredder uses ta watch things."

Mike didn't even flinch. "So _you_ take care of him!" he snapped. "You're staying away from the Rebellion anyway, and it's not like you'd let him head off alone no matter what he does."

Raph's eyes narrowed, and his voice was dangerously quiet when he responded. "Just 'cause I'm not workin' right next ta ya doesn't mean I'm doin' nothin'. Ya can't afford ta have me stop fightin' 'em."

Don cleared his throat loudly, pride stinging, and the two livid ninja turned towards him. "I might not know much about their strategies, but I did manage to survive the last few weeks alone and knowing even less than I do now." He looked evenly at Raph. "I don't need a babysitter."

Mike muttered something too low for him to hear, shooting an almost smug smirk a Raph, but Don refused to break eye contact with his older brother. Raph eventually looked away, and some of the anger bled out of him as he sighed. He scrubbed at his face for a moment in an attempt to control his temper, then he managed to answer in a slightly calmer tone of voice. "That was 'fore they knew ya were alive. They'll be lookin' for ya now."

"I know I need your help, but that doesn't mean I need someone guarding me every second of the day." Don tried to keep his voice unaggressive as he spoke. He needed to be convincing, and Raph was rarely reasonable after he started arguing, but he couldn't keep a sharp edge out of his tone.

It was honestly rather insulting that they didn't seem to think he could look after himself at all. He was as much a ninja as either of them, and he could think of dozens of times he had saved their shells in a fight before. He had accepted that he was out of his depth here, but that didn't render all his training useless, no matter what Raph seemed to think.

"An' if th' Foot attacks ya when yer alone?" Raph asked. "Then what? Ya won't know where ta go or what's safe. Shit, ya don't even know what th' city looks like anymore."

"Then you can teach me." Don offered. He glanced over at their younger brother. "If Mike is truly set on not letting me in until we know more, then we need to find a way to make this work."

Raph let out a snarl at that, and his fist hit the door with a resounding clang, all the calmness he'd managed to hold onto scattering. "We shouldn' _have _ta!" His eye blazed with a mix of fury and concern. "It's not fuckin' _safe._ Nowhere in th' city's ever safe fer long without a big setup like Mike's got. Half o' the time we don't even know _where_ the Foot are watchin', an' it only takes one careless screw up for the Foot ta find ya." He glared at Mike and snarled, "Today's _fuckup_ just proved it."

Instead of continuing to yell like he obviously wanted to, Raph turned fully towards Mike, and his voice was rough with emotion when he continued his argument. "I _can't_ take any damn chances with this. And if ya'd stop and think 'bout this for a moment, ya'd be the same."

For the first time since the argument had begun, Mike broke eye contact. His eyes met Don's for a moment before he glanced quickly away with an almost pained expression on his face. "We don't even know if it _is _him," he said almost uncertainly, sounding younger than he actually was.

Raph didn't even hesitate. "Doesn't matter."

Mike grimaced at the response, refusing to look at either of them. He visibly wavered in his conviction, though he doubted anyone unfamiliar with him would notice the subtle shifts in his body language that meant something Raph said had actually gotten through to him. He was actually considering Raph's argument, not just dismissing it on principle.

Raph noticed the change as well. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer again, almost persuasive as he tried to sway the younger ninja. "We can't afford to let 'em sneak up on us again. An' the only place we know fer sure ain't bein' watched now is the Rebellion."

"Damn it, _I know, _Raph." Mike said, his tone both furious and almost pleading. "Give me a moment to _think_"

Raph subsided with a quiet, irritated grumble, but he stopped arguing immediately. He retreated to a corner of the small room, giving Mike some physical space as well, and stood glowering in the shadows as he waited for his decision.

Nobody said anything for several long moments as they let Mike gather his thoughts in silence. Mike's anger thankfully melted away quickly without Raph arguing with him, and it was replaced by a pensive, vaguely irritated solemnity.

Mike leaned heavily against the opposite wall with a quiet grumble as he thought. He scratched lightly at the new stitches in his arm in an unconscious gesture, and Don winced as he rubbed against the new injury. Mike didn't seem to notice, too caught up in his thoughts.

A few minutes later, Mike let out a gusty sigh and relaxed minutely as he came to some sort of silent conclusion. Instead of announcing his decision like Don wanted him to, Mike turned to Leatherhead and quietly asked. "So… we're _sure_ that Don isn't being bugged?"

Even though it wasn't what he'd hoped to hear, Don felt a spark of hope come to life. It might not have been a full acceptance, but Mike actually sounded uncertain. He spoke with the slow, deliberate words of someone grappling with a difficult problem, and that meant he wasn't dismissing him outright anymore.

"Yes." Leatherhead answered simply. "And should they have found a way to get around our scans, we'll have far larger things to worry about than a single potential leak."

Mike grumbled with frustration, rubbing his forehead lightly. "And for all that shit we went through with the base, that's basically the only thing we actually managed to find out. We don't have enough _information _for this_._"

His gaze flickered to Don, and the thoughtful look deepened. "Don?" Mike asked slowly, "What exactly _do _you remember about what happened?"

Don blinked in surprise as he was dragged out of his tentative thoughts and into the conversation. As the question registered, he frowned in confusion. "I already told you about-" he started, but Mike quickly cut him off with a sharp shake of his head.

"No, you told us a thirty second summary," Mike rebuked. "And I can't say I was paying much attention at the time."

It had been right after he'd first seen them. Honestly, Don couldn't blame him for being distracted. If he was honest with himself, after seeing what had happened to Leo and Mike he probably hadn't been very detailed in his explanation either.

"… Alright," he replied. After a moment to gather his thoughts, he started to speak. He tried to keep it as clinical as possible, mentioning details and observations and glossing over emotions. Beginning with the memory blank, he recanted what he could remember, occasionally backtracking as he recalled random details. He left out almost everything that had happened after he left the Lair for the first time. When he finally reached the point where he met up with Raph, he fell silent.

All three of them paid careful attention as he spoke. Even Raph, who had already heard the majority of the tale, stared at him intently from his corner of the room. As the room fell back into silence, Mike and Leatherhead both stared at him with contemplative looks on their faces.

"Was there any sign at all someone else had been there?" Leatherhead asked. "Anything at all that felt off about the place?"

"The Lair was practically destroyed- _everything _felt off," Don responded dryly. "But… no, not like that. There wasn't any sign someone had been there in a long time. I couldn't even figure out how _I'd _managed to get in. Even the dust around me hadn't been disturbed," Don said, casting his mind back to the first muddled hour. He distinctly remembered his confusion over the thick layer of dust surrounding him, though he hadn't considered it in terms of enemies. "I didn't try the doors though- didn't want to risk setting off an alarm."

Leatherhead's brow furrowed slightly at the new information. "Then how did you manage to get out of the room?"

Don paused for a moment, hesitating at revealing one of the most valued secrets he'd held about the Lair, before continuing with a silent snort. It wasn't like a hidden entrance mattered at all now. "There was an old maintenance shaft in my lab I used to use occasionally. I figured it would be safer to use than the main entrances."

"You had a-" Mike stopped himself, breathing in deeply for a moment before continuing. "Never mind, it's not important now. Would it have been possible for you, or anyone else, have gotten in that way?"

Don thought back to the state of the hatch. "No, it was definitely unused. Rusted and covered in untouched dust- it hadn't been opened in a long time."

Mike slumped slightly. "So basically we have another dead end on our hands and no way to solve it," he sighed in irritated defeat. "You were right not to go out the main doors. With all the tech they have monitoring the sewers, it's practically suicide to go through them anymore. Safer to stick to alleyways. Right now, I wouldn't even go back to the old Lair in case they started watching it after your reappearance."

They nitpicked their way through several other details as they tried to find a clue in the situation. Don tried to remember as many specifics as he could, though his confusion and initial panic at the time had clouded most of his original impressions. Nothing he could remember led to any insight into what had happened, and eventually they ran out of new information to analyze.

Don tried to be patient, but he couldn't help but shift impatiently as he waited for Mike to make his decision. Raph wasn't any better off. He'd waited calmly while Mike and Leatherhead asked their questions, but Don could see his stance starting to tense while Mike thought. The minutes passed in agonizing slowness, broken only by the occasional aggravated sound or mutter that Mike gave out as he weighed the decision.

Just when Don thought Raph would snap, Mike muttered something indecipherable to himself. "Dammit," he finally cursed, but it held little irritation. It was an almost defeated sound. "There's no safe solution to this, is there. We keep him away, Shredder will eventually catch up to him. Take him with us, he's safe and we gain a valuable scientist, but we also get a potential security risk and a whole lot of complications."

Leatherhead quietly advised, "Tactically, the worst thing we could do is ignore this."

Mike slumped slightly. "You think I don't know that?" he muttered. He let out a gusty sigh. "Shit…" He lapsed into silence again, rubbing his forehead in consternation. Raph opened his mouth, but thought better of it and thankfully left Mike to his thoughts. Don's eyes flickered around the room, and he shifted nervously as he waited.

"Should I assume that you're going to follow us back to base?" he finally, grudgingly said, eyes staring firmly ahead at the opposite wall.

It felt like Don's heart stopped for a moment. It took a moment for what he'd said to sink in. Mike was letting him in. He could join the Rebellion- could finally start _doing _something instead of just waiting and reacting or running around uselessly. Even if Mike didn't trust him enough to actually help yet, he would at least be near them.

Raph's face split in a broad, triumphant grin at the admission. "'Course." He didn't say anything else, but his stance finally relaxed, tense anticipation sliding easily out of his body. The frigid atmosphere between them began to dissipate, and even Leatherhead seemed to relax, though it wasn't near as obvious as Raph's reaction.

Mike finally caught Don's gaze, and his eyes were still steely as he continued. "That doesn't mean I'm letting you have free run of the place," he added, crossing his arms defensively. "We're going to need someone watching you at all times, just in case. And Leatherhead's going to run whatever test he thinks is necessary."

Don immediately agreed. It was easily a reasonable demand. So long as he got a chance to join the Rebellion, to at least get that chance to help, he was willing to deal with whatever restrictions Mike decided to set. Besides, he trusted Leatherhead, even after all this time, not to overstep his boundaries in the lab.

It wasn't ideal, not even close, but it was at least a start.


	9. Reminiscence

Reminiscence

* * *

Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."  
― George Harrison

* * *

The first time he'd entered the Rebellion, Don had felt almost sick with conflicting emotions.

Relief at finally arriving was the strongest, but it was closely followed by a mix of uneasy anticipation and dread at how he'd be received. Uncertainty plagued his mind, and underlying it all was a burning curiosity about what, exactly, the elusive Rebellion was. Even as he struggled with his emotions in the tense atmosphere of the journey over, he didn't let any of his inner turmoil make its way outward. His hands didn't shake, his feet didn't falter, and his expression remained carefully neutral as he tried to calm his mind.

When he'd first heard of the Rebellion's existence, Don hadn't been sure what to expect. He'd had weeks to contemplate its presence before stumbling across Raph, and it had been one of very few things he'd had to occupy his thoughts while he waited. Who they were, what they did, how his family had been involved… He'd come up with dozens of ideas, ranging from the plausible to outright ridiculous, but in the end he had nothing to show for it.

He, quite simply, hadn't had enough information. Even after Raph's explanation, he hadn't known near enough about this future to guess how a resistance would have turned out. He didn't know whether Shredder's takeover had beaten citizens into submission or embittered them into revolt. He didn't know how strong or far reaching the movement was, whether they were holding their own or just barely surviving each clash against the Foot. The Rebellion had been barely more than a word and a promise that someone at least was still fighting.

As it was, days after his first, uneasy arrival at one of their outposts, he still didn't know the answers to most of his questions. Even though he'd been brought physically to Mike's base, it hadn't changed the reality of the situation. Frustrating as it was, he was still an unknown variable, a potential threat, and couldn't be trusted with sensitive information until something changed.

Mike had, albeit grudgingly, allowed him in, but he was still fiercely protective of anything that could possibly be used against the Rebellion. He'd accepted that Don was safer with them, but his distrust meant that Don still had little opportunity to actually help them. Mike guarded their strategies too strictly for that.

Still, it was unavoidable that he'd learned at least a handful of their secrets. Their location, for one. There had been no realistic way for Mike to hide where they were in the city from him, so, after a brief argument, he'd grudgingly been allowed to see where they were currently hidden. The base was situated in a large, rundown old warehouse along the ruins in the outskirts of the city, well out of the range of Shredder's constant patrols. He'd gotten the feeling that they moved locations frequently. Nothing in the setup was permanent, and almost everything he saw felt as if it could be packed up and moved at a moment's notice. After all, there were hundreds of empty buildings just waiting to be used.

Thankfully, even with Mike's near paranoia, Don did find something he could do to help them. If there wasn't, he probably would have gone crazy from the forced inactivity. He spent most of his time beside Leatherhead, working in the relative isolation of the labs. Most of the time, at least at first, he spent creating different types of bombs and minor explosives, and for a while he was fine with it. It was relatively minor work, but the challenge of constructing stable, powerful mixtures out of whatever jumble of chemicals they had on hand kept his mind busy. The equipment was painfully old, but carefully maintained and updated regardless. Overall, it was far better than when he'd been in the Lair alone, but eventually… the barely changing tedium of the work began to grate on his nerves.

Right after they arrived, Leatherhead had continued with some minor tests, with Mike silently supervising. They were short, forgettable, and, ultimately, useless. None of them revealed anything new, which meant they were, once again, at a loss for finding an explanation and getting Mike to actually _trust _him with something more meaningful. It was… _frustrating_. Don could do so much moreif he had a chance to tinker with the base's security or help develop some of the more technical weapons.

Working with chemicals, fascinating as it could be, had little effect on the actual war effort. Anyone could be trained how to mix the chemicals.

With all the time he started to spend in the labs, he'd managed to pick up on a few of the major projects being worked on. Security and monitoring the Foot was an almost constant process, with at least one person working on it at nearly all times. He'd silently overheard several discussions on new programming ideas or theories on the Utrom control that he _knew_ he could contribute to, but he didn't. Any suggestions would just be ignored and cause them to move their conversation elsewhere. At least this way he was able to learn about how some of the new tech worked.

Still, Don didn't try to manipulate his way into any of the projects or hack their notes, which he was reasonably sure he could pull off. He really didn't need to deal with the fallout from _that _if he messed up. It was tempting, but he needed to gain some trust far more than information he wouldn't be able to do anything with anyway. For that, he could only wait.

Leatherhead was one of the few people that Don thought actually trusted him, and he was the only one that he spent any time with. If nothing else, it was nice not to constantly feel like he was being spied on by people just waiting for him to mess up. Don was able to relax when he was near the crocodile. He was familiar- one of the few things in the Base that was. His calm presence in the lab hadn't changed and, when they worked together in comfortable silence, Don could almost forget just how much things had changed.

Leatherhead's personality had changed less than he'd initially assumed, considering how battle scarred he had become. There was an almost brittle hardness to him now that the crocodile wore openly, but Don quickly found that, so long as the Foot went unmentioned, the new scars were barely more than a silent reminder.

Of course, not everything had turned out as unexpectedly pleasant. His first meeting with the actual, human Rebels had been an… _interesting _experience. If he was brutally honest, he would admit it was possibly the most awkward, unsettling experience of his life. The only upside was that he hadn't had to meet them all at once.

He supposed there had been some sort of base-wide announcement before his arrival- some kind of briefing so the Rebels didn't react too aversely to his presence. Whatever they'd been told, it had made him some sort of spectacle whenever he went anywhere even semi-public.

Don didn't think he'd ever get used to the stares.

He was a ninja- not only that, he was a _mutant_ who'd spent his entire life hiding from sight. He'd been told thousands of times that being seen by a human would mean death, and even after they had grown old enough to protect themselves they'd stayed out of the way of normal people religiously. Now, he had an entire base worth of people that kept _staring _at him. No matter where he was, eyes kept following him, and it was playing havoc with his nerves.

No matter how many times he told himself he didn't have to worry about them attacking him, a lifetime's worth of instinct was hard to break. So he avoided them as much as possible, choosing solitude or the company of those he actually knew. He ultimately spent most of his time in the relative isolation of Leatherhead's lab, where he could not only be mostly alone but also of some use.

As a whole, the Rebels themselves didn't seem to know how to react to him either. With Mike as one of their leaders, they undoubtedly knew some of their family's story. The mutagen, longstanding feud with the Foot, and Raph and Leo's existence, at the very least. Finding out about the three's long-lost, mysteriously reappeared brother had to have seemed… far-fetched, to say the least.

Unsurprisingly, some of them were outright hostile. They were never physical in their distrust, and Don could live with angry glares and muttered insults so long as they didn't outright attack him. Considering how most of them had probably been fighting the Foot their entire life, Don couldn't say he blamed them from a logical standpoint. Emotionally, their hostility only made his paranoia about being near humans even worse. Most of them, however, seemed either curious or indifferent to his appearance. Suspicious too, but they seemed to trust in Mike's judgment, or at least in his near paranoia about keeping the base safe.

Even if he had been part of one of Shredder's schemes, which he _strongly_ doubted, he didn't think he'd have even gotten a chance to betray them. Mike hadn't been lying about having him under constant surveillance. He was never completely alone. There was always at least one person watching him, which was aggravating, to say the least. He was used to having time on his own to think or investigate his own theories, without having to worry about a stranger watching over his shoulder.

When Leatherhead was in charge of keeping an eye on him, it was bearable, and his instincts weren't screaming at him about someone staring at him. Unfortunately, even with all the time he spent in the labs, the crocodile wasn't the only one watching him. Whenever he was forced to leave the labs or Leatherhead was working on a project he didn't have the clearance to see, which was far too often, he was guarded by a different, normally unfamiliar member of the Rebellion.

Having a different scientist watching him meant there was an unfamiliar human sitting far too close to him, but at least they were occupied with their own work. When one of the soldiers was assigned to watch him, he could practically feel their stares. During those times, he got very little done.

He was grateful for the times Raph stepped in instead, which happened frequently considering how often he would show up to check on him. Raph might still watch him far more than he was used to, but at least he managed to get used to his presence eventually. Besides, he enjoyed any chance to be near his brothers, which came far less often then he would have liked.

Out of his brothers, he saw Raph by far the most. He always seemed to be stopping by briefly to check on him or randomly appearing throughout the day, as if worried he was going to disappear again if left alone. He never seemed to be able to relax though, and oftentimes he stayed only for a few minutes before leaving again. But even that was better than Leo and Mike.

He rarely saw Leo at all, and never when Raph was around. Considering how often he caught one or the other checking in on him, the complete lack of contact between them was impressive. Terrifying, but impressive.

From the first time Raph had told them about their family, he'd been planning on watching how the two of them treated each other. He'd seen them argue and come to grudging truces thousands of times in the past, and he knew the different types of their anger intimately. Everything from the immediate, explosive anger where they couldn't be in the same room without screaming at each other, to the quieter, frigid fury that could last for months whenever the topic was brought up, and every variation in-between. It had been decades since whatever this was started, and he had no clue what type of anger could last for that long. Seeing how they treated each other on a daily basis was the first step in figuring out some way to fix it.

There was just one problem with his plan. Namely, that he didn't get a chance to carry it out.

He'd yet to see them even argue with each other. In fact, he hadn't even managed to catch them in the same room together since he'd first seen them, let alone holding any form of conversation. He hadn't so much as heard Raph mention their older brother's name, or vice versa. They seemed to be trying, quite successfully, to pretend the other didn't exist.

Mike, at least, was a bit better. Don had only seen him a handful of times and had the distinct impression that he was being avoided, but it at least seemed like both Leo and Raph were on better terms with him than each other. Raph would occasionally mention a conversation or event that had involved their youngest brother, even though they didn't seem to be on actual speaking terms, and Leo was the same.

It was, quite frankly, frightening just how broken their family had become when Mike being just on speaking terms with his brothers was the best he could find. When he couldn't begin to help them because he _still _had no clue what had happened to break them apart.

He hadn't been remotely close to getting Leo and Raph in the same room to ask them both himself, and he couldn't bring himself to try asking them individually either. Any story he got from one would undoubtedly be biased against the other, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes against either of his brothers. So, after a week of failure, he finally decided to ask someone else.

April.

Despite his worry, Don smiled as he remembered his reunion with April. It had been one of the few bright spots after arriving in the base. She'd changed as well over the decades, but she was still familiar. Still April, even though she wasn't the same young woman he'd once known.

The most striking of the changes had been physical. Age had hit her just as hard as his brothers, and loss had drawn deep lines in her face. Even her vivid red hair had been dyed a dull black. However, to him the most obvious change was in how she _moved. _April had always been naturally graceful, but there'd been a sort of clumsiness in her movements compared to his family. Even after they'd tried to teach her about how to defend herself in an emergency, that subtle awkwardness hadn't disappeared.

That had changed. Now, she moved with a fighter's casual grace. It was nowhere near as pronounced as his brothers, but there was a fluidity to her movements that spoke of years training to understand the minute movements and limits of every muscle in her body. Don had immediately recognized her as a fighter, a potential threat, just by how she held herself. Even those differences, telling as they were, weren't the largest differences. War had affected her personality as well.

The first time he'd seen her, she'd been wrist deep in a half-built explosive, casually explaining its wiring to a group of young teens beside her. The April he knew had always been peaceful. Almost innocent, despite how many times her connection with them had drawn her into conflict. The familiar way in which she'd handled the explosives had immediately told him that had changed.

She'd also had the hard glint in her eyes of someone who'd seen too many battles. He hadn't been able to picture April as the leader of a Rebellion when he'd first heard about her. She'd been too soft, too much of a civilian and an idealist, to lead a war. This April was different. And… it had hurt to see how someone so soft-hearted, so gentle, had hardened.

Don had only relaxed when April had caught sight of them, and the cold steel in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a guarded sort of wonder. When she smiled, she looked decades younger, almost like her old self.

She'd hugged him- actually _hugged _him as soon as she'd untangled her fingers from the circuitry. April had felt thinner than he'd remembered, almost unhealthily so, but surprisingly muscular despite it. The entire room had stopped when they had noticed their entrance, but April either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared about the sudden tenseness in the air. In that moment, at least, there hadn't been any suspicion in her eyes.

He'd rarely seen her since- much of her time was understandably taken up with the Rebellion- but she'd always seemed glad to see him. He'd no doubt she shared the suspicions even he had about his sudden reappearance, but she had treated him almost normally regardless. She hadn't minded speaking with him about how the Rebellion worked and technology had changed. If he was looking for someone to answer his questions, then she was by far the best choice for information.

Due to her position, April was easy to find. The base was rather small after all, and news spread fast. It meant he had to leave the isolation of the labs, but the poorly hidden stares from those he passed were a small price to pay. It didn't take long to find someone who could direct him to where she was.

He found April in one of the more remote hallways, sorting through what looked like medical supplies with a small smattering of other humans. Don paused at the end of the hall, just taking in their meticulous movements as he gathered the courage to approach the woman who was still only half familiar. He didn't let himself linger for long.

"April?" Don asked quietly, and he was unable to stop a quick, almost guilty glance around the almost empty area. "Can I speak with you for a moment? In private?"

April, who'd set the worn down clipboard she'd been holding down as soon as she heard his voice, wiped her hands off as she stood. Though her tone was light when she replied, Don noticed that her eyes had hardened subtly with a hint of hard-earned suspicion at the request for privacy. "Sure, Don. What do you need?"

"I have some questions I need to have answered," he said vaguely.

April visibly paused, debating her options and likely trying to predict what he was going to ask. "There's a storage area a few rooms over that'll be empty now if you want some privacy."

He nodded and then waited while April spoke quietly with another worker behind her. When she turned to leave, Don silently fell into step beside her as she led the way through almost empty hallways and into an isolated, dusty room. It was filled with old crates, wood bent and rough with age and loosely organized into piles.

April closed the door behind her with an echoing click, leaving them in the weak, flickering light of the old room's single light bulb. She pulled up one of the empty crate to sit on and motioned towards another nearby for him to use. As he sat, she stared evenly at him, faced bathed in the shadows of the room. "So what do you want to know that couldn't be said in public?" she asked seriously.

Don took a deep, calming breath before answering. "I need to know what happened between Leo and Raph."

April froze. Her grip on the crate below her tightened until the wood gave off an audible groan from the stress, and April glanced down with an almost surprised look on her face before forcing her hand to loosen with a tight frown.

"That's… a very complicated story," she said after a moment, eyes still fastened to her hand and face carefully free of emotions. "I'm not the best person best person to tell you about it."

"Then who is?" Don pressed calmly. April opened her mouth to respond, but Don cut her off before she could voice her objections. "You're the only person who's been with us since the beginning- I doubt even Leatherhead would have been close enough to really understand everything. Mike's out since he won't even stay in the same room as me if he can avoid it."

April frowned. "Don't blame Mike for that. He's gone through more than you know," she said quietly, grasping at the diversion.

"I know. He has his reasons, even if I don't understand them," _and nobody's been willing to _explain_ anything to me_ he added privately, "but that doesn't change the fact he can't help me understand what's going on."

"You could ask Leo or Raph about-"

Don cut her off, feeling slightly guilty as he did so. "I'm willing to bet that if I try to speak with Leo or Raph separately I'll end up with two vastly different, skewed accounts. Assuming either of them is willing to say anything about it in the first place."

April sighed heavily, running a hand through her dark hair nervously. "It's been twenty five years, Don," she finally said. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "It's- not a pleasant story."

"I still need to hear it."

April just stared at him for a moment, searching his face. Whatever she found, it caused her to sigh heavily, and the resistance seemed to flow out of her along with her breath. What was left seemed tired and far, far too old.

He could see every year he'd missed in the deep lines in her face. The immovable dedication and vitality that had previously lightened her features had disappeared, hidden under the weight of too many timeworn, painful memories. Don was hit by guilt at being the cause of her pain, but he repressed the feeling before it could reach his face and reminded himself that, whatever the outcome, this was necessary.

"How much have you been told about what happened to Splinter?" she started wearily.

Much as he'd tried to prepare himself for what he would hear, Don still flinched at the mention of their father. His death was still a raw wound that hadn't even begun to heal yet. "Raph only told me that he had been killed by the Foot not long after my disappearance," he said quietly.

"Shit," she cursed quietly, and Don flinched at the expletive. "This is going to be a hell of a long conversation then."

As she leaned backwards, the crate creaked loudly enough Don almost thought it would break under her weight. Behind her, the abandoned piles of crates loomed unevenly in the unreliable lighting.

"It all started to go wrong after you disappeared," she finally started. Her eyes were unfocused as she revisited old memories. "Those first few months… You can't imagine what it was like. We had nothing to go on, and everything we tried kept ending in dead ends. Things between Leo and Raph were- well, tense was an understatement. Everyone was on edge and lashing out at each other, but they were the worst. They would get in downright nasty arguments with each other. Mostly about the search."

The light above them gave another, longer flicker, casting the two into deep shadows for a long moment. April barely seemed to notice. "The problem was, they both reacted in completely different ways to your disappearance. You know how they were well enough to guess it." She gave him a wan smile full of old, shared memories. "Raph, of course, was furious. He wanted to look for you everywhere, follow every lead he had before time ran out. At some point, I think he wanted to personally interrogate half the Purple Dragons in the city to see if they knew anything."

"Leo… he was just as frantic at your disappearance as Raph was, as we _all_ were, but he was better at hiding it. Where Raph thought speed was necessary, Leo wanted to be patient, methodical so they didn't miss a clue, and he hated whenever Raph would put himself in danger and head off on his own in search of a lead."

It was all too easy for Don to picture the two of them. Whenever tension was high in the Lair, they always ended up clashing. Raph's erratic temper and Leo's cold ire would always just build on each other until they couldn't stand to be near each other. And with Raph furious at Leo, it would have been all too easy for him to mistake Leo's caution for indifference. It had happened before.

That type of anger, of fighting, was familiar. The Lair would have been tense, almost unbearable even without the added strain of his disappearance. But even though they could barely stand each other's presence during those fights, they had never forgotten they were brothers. Not like this.

April started to fiddle absentmindedly with the uneven wood of the crate below her, slowly worrying the loose shards of wood into nothing. "It wasn't until Splinter died that everything started getting worse." She continued softly. "I wasn't there when it actually happened, but I know the story well enough. A couple years after you vanished, Karai managed to figure out where the Lair was, and she attacked without warning."

Immediately, something struck Don as off, and he spoke up. "Without warning?" he echoed. "What about the security system I had in place? Even without me there to keep an eye on it, it should have lasted at least that long." He'd built their security to last. A few years was nothing.

April shook her head and even gave herself a darkly bemused, almost depreciating smile. With a quick flick of her wrist, the splinter of wood in her hand disappeared. "I'm honestly not sure," she admitted. "We spent a lot of time out of the city looking for you- months at a time occasionally. If Karai didn't sabotage it outright, then chances are something shorted out and we never even noticed. We all tried to keep everything working but," she shrugged helplessly "we just didn't have the knowledge to keep up with it."

"I never did appreciate just how much of a genius you were for coming up with half of what you did back then. Then it all started to run down without you, and I couldn't figure out half of what you'd done." Her vaguely bemused smile, which had been slowly fading, disappeared. "We didn't even know the system was down before Karai threw it in our faces."

Don could almost picture how it had happened. His family would have been completely unprepared- their guard down because they had trusted the Lair was safe. Karai would have torn into the Lair through the hole in the wall he'd noticed when he first woke up, likely with either some form of explosives or an early version of one of the machines the Foot now seemed to favor. Don spent a moment trying to imagine what it would have been like. Seeing Karai force her way in, having the Foot swarming in beside her like a plague, fighting knowing that no matter how the battle ended they'd have to abandon their home.

He couldn't.

April's quiet voice brought him back to the present. "They never did tell me exactly what happened during that fight. It took me months to piece together what I figured out from their arguments and what little they could bring themselves to tell me directly." Breaking eye contact, she looked back down at her hand, which had started tugging at the ragged cracks in the crate again. "They came to my shop after, and it was- bad. Raph's arm and shoulder were broken, Mike was concussed and barely even coherent, and they were all covered in blood and bruises."

April's eyes were unfocused, lost in memories of something Don could only imagine. "They had to leave him behind. Splinter- he chose to sacrifice himself to hold them off long enough for them to get away."

Don stopped breathing.

So that was how his Father had died. It was… fitting. Honorable. Splinter had died a noble death to save his sons. But that didn't make the knowledge hurt any less. He could so easily picture him in that final battle giving the order and facing the Foot alone, knowing that he wouldn't get out alive.

He wondered briefly where Splinter had been buried. Or if the Foot had taken his body with them as well.

April seemed to focus on him for the first time since she started, and the almost vacant expression on her face faded. Her eyes softened in concern. She reached over to place her hand lightly on his shoulder, a comfortingly warm weight in a room that had suddenly seemed to feel colder. "You okay, Don?" she asked quietly. "If you… want some time alone to think, I can finish telling you the rest tomorrow."

Don looked down at himself and noticed with some surprise that his hands were shaking. He clenched his hand into a fist in an attempt to control them, but the tremors stubbornly continued to make their way up his arm.

He... didn't want to hear anymore. Didn't want to know every painful detail of how his family had shattered and his father had died. He'd known before he came to April how hard it would be to hear about, but all the mental preparation he'd tried to do paled in comparison to hearing the truth.

"No," he replied, still looking at his still defiantly trembling hands. "I still need to understand the rest." If he didn't hear her out now, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to force himself to seek April out again to hear the end.

April still hesitated. "It doesn't get any better."

He broke eye contact with his hands to meet her worried gaze. "I already know it ends with their current estrangement." He gave her a wan smile. "I'm aware it's not about to get any easier to hear."

She gave a slight nod. "Alright." She paused a moment both to recapture her thoughts and give him a few more moments to compose himself again. "It was only a few days after the burial when they started fighting again."

"Raph thought they could have saved him." She was deathly quiet, almost whispering, as she spoke. "He started blaming Leo for listening to Splinter when he ordered them to leave and for forcing him to leave with them." She glanced up at him, eyes bright as a thought struck her. "Not that Leo was an innocent in all that. He was in just as much pain as Raph, and he couldn't keep his temper either once Raph started accusing him. I think at one point he implied that the Foot could have followed Raph to the Lair after one of his searches topside."

Don shuddered at the thought. They had fought over whose fault their father's death was while the dirt was still fresh on his grave? He didn't know what he'd expected the reason for their grudge to be, but that…

April hadn't said it, but there was no way that fight hadn't turned physical. With Raph's arm unusable, it would have been a very one-sided fight, which would only have made it worse. Anger flared up past the numb disbelief, mixing sickeningly with grief over the circumstance. Instead of respecting their Father's sacrifice, horrible as it was, and pulling together to survive like he would have wanted, they'd ignored his wishes and brawled instead. And Mikey- one brother missing, father newly dead, and his two remaining brothers at each other's' throat.

If he'd been there… He didn't know what he could have done, but at least he could have tried to stop them before it had escalated so far. Maybe nothing would have changed and it would all still have fallen apart, but at least he could have been there for Mikey.

April still continued. "Raph left for a while after that argument. I'm not sure where he went, but he checked in with Casey every so often, thank God, or we might've thought the worst. He came back that time, but it was different between those two. So far as I knew they didn't fight about Splinter again, but they barely even spoke to each other as well. It was almost as if they decided to ignore each other and what had happened."

She trailed off, idly scraping at the crate with a pensive look on her face. Don patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts and emotions, knowing and regretting how hard it was for her to remember. He almost reached forward to comfort her, but stopped before he could break the stillness. After a few minutes pass with no sign of movement, he quietly asked, "So what caused," he gestured vaguely around him, "_this _to happen?"

April sighed, and she wouldn't meet his eyes as she almost inaudibly said, "Casey died." And even after all these years, Don could still hear the poorly healed scar that covered the old, ragged wound of his death. Old pain was written in the tight set of her jaw and the stiffness in her shoulders, the deep lines around her eyes and the hard glint of sorrow in her gaze.

"He was out patrolling the streets with Raph. The Foot again." She stopped after that, and Don knew that was all he was going to hear from her about Casey's death.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened with your brothers then- wasn't paying too much attention to them in the time leading up to the funeral. Raph was just gone from the new Lair afterwards. Set up his own place a few blocks away. And- that was that."

"That was that?" Don echoed. "But- that can't be it. It has to have been at least twenty years. You mean that nothing's changed between them for the past two _decades_?"

April shrugged helplessly. "They haven't exactly been in contact with each other enough for things _to _change," she said. "You've already seen how far they're willing to go to avoid each other, and they're both in the same building now to check on you. With the entire city to hide in, they didn't need to come remotely close to each other without wanting to." The unspoken _and they didn't _hung in the air between them.

"But that's…" He didn't know how he was going to finish the sentence. There were just too many words to describe what had happened, and none of them could truly encompass it without seeming pathetically shallow in comparison.

April understood what he couldn't say regardless. "Yeah. It is."

Silence took hold again, a cloying thing heavy with the weight of years and memories that he could still only begin to imagine. Don was still grappling with what he'd learned, trying to come to terms with what he'd missed. It was… almost too much to take in. To him, it had barely been a few weeks since he'd last seen his family whole. His father alive, Mikey cheerful, Leo and Raph still brothers. It was bad enough seeing what his city had become, learning that the Shredder had taken over, but he didn't even have his brothers to help him cope. Shell, Mike would barely even look at him.

Still, Don couldn't regret convincing April to tell him about what had happened. It hurt like shell and made the idea of fixing anything between them seem almost impossible, but Don had never been one for denial. Now… he at least had a starting point. Not much, but it was at least something.

Finally, April sighed, staring tiredly back at him. The still flickering lights cast deep shadows into the lines of her face, making her seem even older than she was. "I know what you're thinking Don, but you can't fix this." She cast her arms out beseechingly. "Don't you think Mike and I have tried?"

Don wasn't surprised that she'd guessed his intentions. He said, "I can't just sit by and do nothing." It didn't matter how impossible the idea of remaking his family seemed. They were his brothers. He'd already left them once, and he'd do anything to heal the scars that had formed in his absence.

She smiled at him fondly, sadly, before silently standing up. As she moved past him, her hand briefly brushed against his shoulder. When she was almost at the door, she said, half to herself, "No, I don't expect you could."

Don watched her go. Just before she disappeared, he softly said, "Thank you for speaking with me."

Her head bobbed once in acknowledgement, and then she was gone, leaving Don alone with the fading echoes of their conversation.

~.*.~


	10. Resolve

Resolve

* * *

"It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today."

-Robert J. Hastings

* * *

"You want me to _what?"_

Don stared at the gun in disgust, taking a step back away from the weapon. The gun was a dull black, scuffed from use but undamaged. The metal gleamed where the light struck it and the dirty black of the barrel contrasted sickeningly with the familiar, deep green of his brother's hand. It was the closest Don had ever been to a gun without having it pointed at him- shell, probably the only time he'd seen a gun without having to worry about being shot at immediately after.

More than that, it was a _gun-_ the unskilled, dishonorable weapon he'd sworn never to use_._ It was one thing to use his technology- rocket launchers and explosives and the Battle shell. He'd built those himself. Used them for distractions and sabotage when necessary, but never for actual combat. Guns were different. Worse.

And _Leo, _of all people, was the one holding the weapon out to him expectantly.

"Take it," Leo repeated. He pushed the gun towards him instead, a vaguely exasperated look on his face as if Don was just being unreasonably stubborn. "You need to learn how to use it."

He still didn't move. "There is no way I'm learning how to fire a gun," Don said.

"Then you're not leaving Base," Leo continued calmly.

Don grimaced, and then glanced back down at the gun Leo was still holding. It sat there, dark and scuffed and deceptively innocuous. He quickly looked away again.

That had been one of the deals they'd made. Don wouldn't be allowed to leave the safety of the building even with one of his brothers accompanying him until Leo determined he was able to defend himself against the average patrol. They'd all agreed on it, even Raph, though he'd made a fuss about Leo being the one in control.

Even Don had agreed. After the fiasco with the factory, he knew just how much he'd missed in the past decades. He needed to know the new tech to watch out for and the Foot's new strategies and strengths.

But he hadn't agreed to anything with _guns._

Leo sighed. "Things have changed, Don," he said quietly. "If you're going to survive out there, then you need to understand this type of weapon. You need to know how to identify them, how to fight them, _and _how to use them."

"You don't have to replace your bō with them, but you do need to be able to wield it."

Things have changed… Don was really starting to hate that phrase. It covered everything that was different in the world, and so far nothing had changed for the better. It was all new scars, and new grudges, and new destruction, and now new weapons as well.

And that weapon represented everything that ninjitsu wasn't. It was dishonorable. Talentless. Something for thugs and cowards. But it was also _Leo _standing in front of him, the person who'd always exemplified that very philosophy, and he'd always trusted his eldest brother.

Gingerly, Don reached over and took the small handgun from his older brother. The metal was smooth and cold to the touch. An unpleasant weight against the skin of his palm. He did his best to ignore his displeasure. If Leo said that he needed to learn how to use the weapon, then he would. Besides, after a week of being stuck in one building, surrounded by humans, he was anxious for any opportunity to get out.

Leo gave him a satisfied nod as he adjusted to the weapon. "Good," he said, and then he leaned over, adjusted Don's grip on the handle, and began to explain how to use the firearm.

There was a lot to learn. It would be a while before he actually had to fire it, but that was perfectly fine with him. He needed to learn not only how to use and take care of the weapon, but how to fight against one as well. Naturally, Don preferred the latter lessons. The Rebels generally only used the single type of gun, preferring explosions and subtler traps to straight out combat, but the Foot had a much larger spread of firearms to choose from.

Some of it was interesting. Most of it was information he wished he'd known before, when facing Purple Dragons and random thugs. He would probably have even enjoyed it if it wasn't for the practical parts of the lessons.

He hated the feel of the metal. He hated how heavy the deceptively tiny the weapon was and the way the scuffed metal would slide across his skin. It never quite fit right in his hand. Leo showed him how to work around it, but his fingers were too large and different for the handle to ever feel comfortable. Don was glad for that.

He didn't just learn the weapons. There were tactics and maps to memorize and hand to hand combat that he insisted had to be improved. New York was a different city, its maps full of unstable buildings and dangerous patrol patterns. He'd gotten an idea of the damage when he'd first arrived, but he hadn't realized just how much of the city had been destroyed.

It was the first time Don had been alone with his eldest brother, and he could guess why. Leo wasn't comfortable around him. When Leo taught him, he was… polite. Don wasn't sure what else to call it. Leo had always been exceptionally focused during training and had demanded the same from them, but this was different. He'd never doubted that Leo had done it to protect the family. Now… he wasn't sure what to call it. Leo always left as soon as the session ended. This time, Don stopped him.

"Leo?" he started. "Do you have a moment?"

Leo didn't speak, but he stopped walking away and turned back to face him. With a pang, Don was forced to acknowledge he truly couldn't read his eldest brother anymore.

"It's- nothing truly important," he backtracked, "but I haven't gotten a real chance to speak with you yet."

Leo said nothing, which could be a good or a bad sign. At least he seemed willing to speak with him, which was better than nothing. He could have just made an excuse to leave immediately. Don wouldn't have put it past him.

"Leo…" Don started. "I want to understand," he said honestly, hoping that would work. "I've been here for weeks already, and there's still so much I don't know. So many things I've missed that nobody is willing to talk about and I have no way of finding out on my own."

"We told you everything we can risk about the Shredder and the war," Leo said mechanically. His expression didn't even twitch.

Don fought the urge to sigh. Leo had to know him better than that, even after all this time. He said, "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Leo shifted slightly, redistributing his weight to a better stance. "Even if it doesn't seem like it to you, it's been decades since then. Just let it go."

"I can't do that."

Don held eye contact, trying to force him to relent through force of will alone. He wouldn't let it go. He _couldn't. _Leo didn't say anything; he just stared. Then he turned around and, without a word, started to walk away.

"Wait!"

He reached out to grab Leo's shoulder—just a light touch, something he could've broken out of easily, but Leo froze as soon as he made contact.

"How can you just-" he started heatedly, but Don forced himself to calm down and lower his volume back to something more controlled. An outright argument, no matter how well deserved, wouldn't get him anywhere with him. "Don't you miss it? You can't honestly tell me you prefer" He gestured around them. "_this._"

It was small, painfully so, but Don actually got a reaction from that. There was the barest flicker of emotion—his mouth downturned, brow furrowed—just barely visible past his nigh-perfect poker face and tinted glass. But the brief emotion was something Don could almost call regret.

"That doesn't matter anymore," Leo said. "You're chasing after memories. Life's different now. The whole world is. It'll be less painful if you just accept it as is.

There it was again. That defeatist attitude, just like April. Don just… couldn't understand it. How could he possibly just accept this when there was still the possibility he could change it? They were all still alive. Still in the same city. And, shell, he _knew _they'd be stronger, _happier _if they were together again. Why couldn't they see it?

He tried again. "Can't you tell me something? Anything?"

Leo sighed, and in one smooth movement he pulled his arm out of Don's reach. "It's not that simple. You're asking about something that took years. We've already tried fixing it. Didn't work."

Leo looked like he was about to walk away again. Don… panicked.

"Was it because of Father?"

Don regretted asking it almost as soon as the words left his mouth. Leo stopped moving, and his entire body tensed. His face was not just neutral, but cold. It looked like he'd finally gotten a reaction out of his brother. Just not the one he wanted.

"You spoke with Raph." Leo stated.

"I don't-"

"Let me guess," he continued bitterly. "The Foot broke into the Lair. We were all injured in the fight, then Master Splinter ordered us to escape while he held them off. So I, selfish, _cowardly_ leader that I was, left Splinter there to die and forced Raph and Mike to escape with me."

"Leo, that's not what I—," Don tried to say, but he was too late.

He could only watch the back of Leo's shell as he disappeared into the shadows at the end of the room. A tight coil of mixed frustration and helplessness coiled in his stomach. He barely resisted the urge to go back to the weapons rack and start throwing the metal around just to hear it clatter and shriek. He wasn't normally one for displays of temper, but this was far, far past what he could deal with. Then with a barely muffled curse, he started to make his way back to the main hallways, leaving the room dark behind him.

* * *

...

That night, Don couldn't sleep. He'd been given an actual room, closed off from where the rest of the Rebellion slept. He was betting it'd used to be some sort of storage closet, though it had undoubtedly been empty for years before someone had dragged a cot in for him to sleep on. It was the exact same thing the rest of the Rebels used, just separated for both his sake and theirs.

For once, Don didn't like the isolation. It was too quiet. Too empty. There was nothing to distract him from the thoughts that swirled bitterly through his head. He was tired of being in the dark. It wasn't just his brothers—he was sick of all of it. Of being under suspicion and shunted aside when he could actually be doing something. Of not knowing what was going on or what they were planning and only barely knowing what had happened. It was like being stuck in limbo.

Don stood up and silently stepped over to the closed door. It was made of old wood, pitted and rotting. One good kick could snap it in half, but that didn't matter. The lock itself was long broken. For a minute, he just stood in front of the wood, his fingers tapping a light rhythm against the material just to feel the texture.

Well… Technically, he never had been explicitly restricted to his room. It was just strongly implied that he needed a guard, considering there'd always been someone there to shepherd him from one place to another.

The door might not have been locked, but that didn't mean it wasn't being monitored. This time, he knew what to look for. Don cast his eyes around the frame of the doorway, looking for the telltale signs that Leo had been teaching him. Now that he was looking for them, they were easy to find. An unnaturally sharp furrow in the wood; a specific, shallow series of light scratches. He found them half hidden along the very edge of the door. It could have been a number of small monitoring devices, but Don was willing to bet it was a small motion detector.

He knew how to deal with those. Heck, he'd known how to trick them before he'd come here, though not with detectors as small and powerful as the ones used now. He blocked the sight of the detector with skill born of experience, feeling even a bit insulted that Mike would think such a small tech could catch him.

The door opened with the strained rasp of rusting steel, but Don hesitated before stepping into the darkened hallway. If he was caught, it wouldn't look good. He didn't even want to think about how Mike would react to finding him sneaking around the confidential tech, and he doubted that he would believe he just wanted to help.

Don steeled his resolve, taking his first step out of the room. Well, that just meant he wouldn't allow himself to get caught. Even if he'd fallen behind his brothers and the Foot elite, he was still miles ahead of the average soldier. He'd be able to avoid most recruits easily, and now he knew enough to get caught by any tech that might be monitoring the halls or rooms.

He stole through the hallways along a familiar path, moving from shadow to shadow in small bursts of speed. At this time of night, there weren't many lights—just the bare minimum to illuminate the walls and turns of the passages. He briefly heard the soft sounds of a conversation, but it was far off and easy to avoid.

He didn't head towards the labs, though he wanted to. The experimental tech and knowledge those rooms held were one of the most guarded places in the entire building and for good reason. Even if he could get inside without tripping anything, there was little chance he could access any of the info without setting off some sort of alarm.

Instead, he headed towards a small, sporadically used room with one working computer wired into the power net. He'd seen it used for miscellaneous reasons—had in fact used it himself a few times while helping April catalogue parts. It wasn't important enough to merit its own guards, and was left unused even during most daylight hours. Most importantly, it was wired into the entire database.

His experience might be outdated. There was tech he didn't know and strategies he'd never seen. But Don was still a world-class hacker, and no security net was advanced enough to keep him out when he was determined. The computer flicked on easily and noiselessly. Don smirked at the screen, opened up the link, and got to work. One hour. He'd risk just one hour here, no matter what he found or how caught up in the tech he got. After all, there was nothing stopping him from picking up where he'd left off tomorrow.

* * *

...

The next day, it was back to training. Nothing had changed. Nobody treated him any differently or confronted him about where he'd been last night, though he half suspected it. He went through the day unexpectedly twitchy, which got him an odd look from Leatherhead but nothing else.

He was pretty sure Leo noticed it, but he'd probably just passed it off as a result of their stilted conversation. Leo didn't say anything about that either. He went back to instructing him with the same basic efficiency, and this time Don let him. It was easier to let that go temporarily now that he was actually making some progress at night.

Over the next couple weeks, he learned how to identify the different types of weapons and the differences between them. He learned how to analyze where a bullet would fly and how powerfully from appearance alone, and what types of strategies would work versus what would get you killed in different situations.

As he started to get a hang of the tactics, Leo started adding physical training to the lessons as well. Don only had to spar with Leo once to see that his fighting style had changed. He was faster than before, more refined in his movements. Time and experience had reshaped his style and undoubtedly the techniques of Mike and Raph as well. Don had thirty years less experience than they did, and he knew it. One on one combat had never been his forte.

At night, however, he was in his element. It took a few nights and some stumbles along the way, but Don managed to crack the security around the labs. He nearly stayed past his deadline after that breakthrough, and his head buzzed with thoughts for hours. There was just so _much _information—things he wasn't authorized to know and tech that hadn't been relevant enough for him to be taught. Records from hundreds of discoveries and tests from years of experiments.

He reluctantly put aside all the information that wouldn't help him, no matter how interesting it looked. His time was limited, and he forced himself to ignore anything that wouldn't let him help against the Shredder.

The robotics were endlessly interesting. Leo had taught him how to recognize and avoid them, but nobody had bothered instructing him about how they actually worked. The notes and schematics in the database were detailed enough that, with enough time, he was reasonable sure he could reprogram them or at least perform some creative sabotage. The tech had advanced enough some of the machinery and techniques were almost unrecognizable, but the basic setup was still the same.

There was one discovery that made everything worth it. The labs had access to one of the _Utrom suits_. The Utroms were one of the forbidden topics nobody willingly talked about. He'd been told the basic info—that they'd been enslaved by the Shredder and controlled through the suits—but he'd gotten the feeling it was a sensitive topic. Maybe they'd been allies earlier in the war, back before their enslavement? It was an interesting idea, if not one he could really check, but the thought quickly left his mind as he started really digging into the research.

The suits themselves were more than Don could have dreamed of having access to. It was beyond anything that had been possible thirty years ago. Complex. Powerful. Absolutely _fascinating_. Don dug into the information and analysis voraciously. There was just so much there. The robotics alone would have been enough to keep him interested for weeks, let alone the new technology and weaponry built into the metal skeleton itself.

There were dozens of notes and sketches about that, but the largest focus by far was about how the suits connected to the Utroms inside them. Don came across half a dozen different theories speculating on how the Utroms were controlled, how they received their orders, and how much freedom over their own thoughts and actions they still had.

Leatherhead unwittingly helped him understand some of it. So long as he kept his questions within the realm of what he could reasonably have access to, Leatherhead was willing to answer any programming and tech questions he had. He almost felt guilty about tricking him, but… there were just so _many _things being hidden from him that he couldn't regret accessing the technology. He was doing it in the hopes he could eventually help them too, after all. He only regretted that there was no way he could apply his knowledge. Not yet, anyway. He was still hoping that Mike would change his mind about that. Considering how much effort he was putting into avoiding him, that didn't seem very likely.

The day finally came when Leo decided he was prepared enough to leave the base—with supervision, of course. For his sake and security's. At that point, Don didn't care (too much). He'd been trapped inside a narrow, poorly lit building full of humans for far, far too long. The first patrol was pure bliss. Leo was with him; a silent green shadow that only spoke with clipped directions and instructions. Otherwise it was blessed silence and _freedom._

Sometimes it was Leo. Others days he would run with Raph. It was never Mike though, and Don still hadn't seen him again. He was getting rather tired of that actually, but it didn't seem nearly as frustrating when he was out on the rooftops.

He enjoyed the patrols for more than just the opportunity to get outside and actually _run _again. Even with the crumbling roofs, missing buildings, and silence, running patrols was familiar. He could fall into a pattern of running and jumping, just letting the wind whip past his skin and the shadows sweep over him.

Patrols were mostly a way of keeping an eye on what the Foot was doing and scouting out different sections of the city. They had their own video cameras and tech tracking what was happening, but you never knew when the Shredder would have some new tech that could sneak past them. Physical patrols were more reliable, particularly for the big things.

It was one of the days he was out with Raph. Generally, Raph was easier to run with than Leo. He was more willing to answer his questions at least, even if they mostly ran in silence.

They were almost an hour in when Raph suddenly stopped mid-step, reaching out a hand to steady Don as he almost stumbled. His other hand went to his sai, though he didn't remove the weapon. Don's heart leaped into his throat, and he started to scan their surroundings for a threat. The roof was quiet and dark, lost to the shadows of the night and surrounding buildings. He couldn't see any Foot.

He was considering taking the risk of asking Raph what he'd seen when he heard something from the alley beside them. It was a soft, wet sound that made the back of his neck prickle with disgust. It was about as far as it could get from the electronic hum of technology he'd been expecting to hear if the Foot was near. He didn't recognize it at all.

Don moved towards the edge of the roof, careful not to make a sound. Raph's hand on his shoulder stopped him, and Don felt a flash of annoyance as Raph just stepped in front of him. Don stayed silent, following Raph closely as they approached the edge.

"Ah, hell," Raph cursed quietly.

Don looked, but for a moment he couldn't' make out the darkened shapes below. Then something moved, and a shadowed figure shifted into focus. His first thought was that it looked wrong. Disfigured. It was distinctly humanoid, but there were… oddly shaped shadows and lumps where they didn't belong. His first thought was that it was wearing some sort of bulky clothing or weapon, but then it stumbled into shaft of moonlight and he got a clear look at it.

He recoiled. It… wasn't clothing. Might still be weapons, but they looked as if they'd been actually grafted onto the skin. Muscles and bones bulged in unnatural spaces, but it was shaped just humanoid enough to be morbidly disturbing. Even the color was off. It looked like a sickly, decaying gray, and Don hoped it was just the moonlight. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't human.

"What the shell is that?" Don whispered as quietly as he could.

Raph spared him a quick glance, but his attention stayed in the alley. "Ya remember back when I mentioned Bishop's still kickin'?" he asked. "Well, that's one a his."

With everything that had happened, Don actually had to focus to remember what Raph was talking about. It had been back at the beginning, when he'd first run into them. They'd been talking about… ah, shell. "Clones?" Don cringed at the memory and looked again at the creature. "You mean Bishop _made _that?"

It… didn't look like how he'd pictured a clone. More like a mad scientist's experiment gone wrong. That was what they'd thought he was? Hopefully there were other, more normal looking versions. Then again, if all of them were that off, he could consider it a solid point against being a clone himself. He'd have to remember to ask someone about that later.

Raph took one sai out, idly spinning it with one hand. "Yep. Livin' weapons ta go 'gainst the Foot. An' they work too." He tossed the sai up, caught it. "Problem is, every so often somethin' gets fucked up an' one of 'em goes batshit on us."

Don looked at the thing with renewed caution. "Are they dangerous?"

Raph shrugged. "Normally, no. Bishop keeps 'em on a tight leash." His eyes narrowed as he looked back down at it. "But when they go rogue, it gets ugly. 'S one of the reasons the Rebellion has nothing to do with him. Too much collateral damage. We're lucky we caught this one 'fore t ran into a crowd or somethin'"

"How do you know it's not acting on Bishop's orders?"

Raph shrugged. "Experience. 'S alone an' movin' slowly, like its jus' wanderin' round the streets. Bishop made 'em efficient—they don't do that when they're workin' right. Won't know fer sure 'less it actually starts attackin' someone."

Below them, a pile of metal scraps went clanging to the ground when the creature brushed against it. Both of them froze as they waited to see if the loud noise would draw any unwanted attention, but nobody came to investigate.

"So what do we do?"

Raph didn't look at him when he answered. That was his first clue. "'We' do nothin'," he said. "_I'm_ gonna stay here—keep an eye on it an' make sure no civies run into it. An' _ya_ are gonna go back ta the Rebellion an' tell 'em 'bout the Rogue. April'll send backup."

Don stared at him in disbelief. Had Raph seriously just told him to run back to the base and leave him alone to fight that thing? 'Cause there was no way that was going to happen. Raph was already starting to move along the rooftop closer to the creature though, and he clearly expected Don to leave. He didn't.

"We can radio them just as easily," Don said.

Raph stopped walking forward, and he turned around slowly to glare back with one bright eye. "I gave ya an order," he said. His voice was deceptively quiet, but the threat was clear.

Don was too used to Raph's temper to be intimidated. "I'm not helpless. I can fight. I'm here, aren't I?" That was the whole reason he'd been training with Leo. So he wouldn't be a burden, a _liability, _in battle. He was _not_ going to let Raph push him out of the line of fire without a good reason. Raph's face twisted with anger and he moved towards him with a clipped, steady gait designed to intimidate. Another familiar tactic.

"Yeah," he growled. An' while yer out here, yer under my command. An' I said ya need ta leave."

Don didn't let himself be intimidated. He kept his tone measured and reasonable as he spoke. "So that if it tries to attack someone before anyone else gets here, I won't be anywhere near it. "No." Don had to look up to reach Raph's eye, but that was familiar too.

"Don…"

He didn't let him finish. "_No_," he repeated. "Either it's weak enough you can take it on yourself or strong enough you need back-up. In both cases, it's better if I stay here instead."

Raph stopped within half a foot of his face, glaring. Don glared back. They stayed there for several tense minutes as the sounds of the creature stumbling around below them drifted up from the alleyway. Raph finally broke eye contact with a muffled curse.

"Yer so stubborn. So-" He shook his head, grimacing. "Fine. 'M not gonna be able ta convince ya anyway." He turned around, already starting towards the edge of the roof. "Jus' follow me. An' don't do anythin' stupid that might attract its attention."

He made a jump to the roof next to them, closer to where the mutant was heading. Don followed, and he was careful to stay silent and hidden. He wouldn't give Raph a reason to regret taking him on patrol, and he refused to be useless again.

* * *

~.*.~

**AN**: Yeah… this took me a ridiculously long time to write. I wrote the first scene and then spent the next two months completely blanking on where to go next (and worrying about the new plot point). Hopefully the next won't take nearly as long, but I won't know 'till I actually start writing. Still have no plans to abandon it though.


	11. Bishop's Mutants

Bishop's Mutant

* * *

"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved."

— William Jennings Bryan

* * *

The silence was thick between them as they watched the creature. They were still, aside from the occasional jump to a new building as it ambled slowly along below them. The only movement was from the alleyway as the creature wandered from one side to the other and turned down new pathways seemingly at random.

Raph was pissed. His eyes were locked on the alleyway below them, but Don could still read the fury in the stiffness in his shoulders and jerking twitches of his fingers against the hilt of his sais. Don had nearly broken the silence a few times—to apologize, maybe, or ask about Bishop's clones again—but thought better of it. He didn't want another argument.

He'd radioed in the encounter as Raph had asked. The conversation had been kept short to reduce the chance of being intercepted, so they'd only shared a few curt sentences before disconnecting. It had been just enough for him to know they'd be sending an experienced group over to help take it out.

He and Raph would only have to watch over the creature for ten or fifteen minutes more before their backup arrived. Don would willingly back down from the fight then, once Raph had someone else to watch his back while they fought. Raph was technically in charge right now and Don would follow his orders—just not when they put him in danger for no good reason. And trying to get him out of the way so he wouldn't get hurt was _not _a good reason.

Don fidgeted and wished he had some way to keep track of time. The other Rebels had to be getting close by now, and they hadn't moved that far from where he'd radioed in. For a few moments he considered contacted the group again to see how close they were, but the transmission would count as taking an unnecessary risk.

They moved slightly farther along the rooftop again as the creature drifted over into the mouth of a new alleyway and wandered towards some shapes on the far side of the path. This time, instead of toying with whatever had caught its interest for a few seconds and moving on as it had before, the creature stopped moving a few paces away from it and cocked its head as if trying to figure something out.

Don couldn't see why. The creature had stopped at just another large pile of rusting material from a half-collapsed building behind it. The debris formed a large pile, taller than he was even, but it looked no different than any of the other large piles of metal and wood littering the city. Still, something about it had caught the creature's attention. It moved purposefully, for once, towards the pile and crouched down beside it. It nudged against one of the large steel beams for a moment and leaned even closer before snarling and starting to claw at the scrapheap.

Beside him, Raph moved even closer to the edge of the roof, brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to get a better view. "What the hell is it-" His breath hitched in some sort of realization, and he cursed vividly.

Don tensed and looked harder. He still couldn't see anything unusual. "What?"

"Dammit, there's _people_ in there," he growled.

Don's eyes snapped back to the alleyway for another look at the scrap pile. Could somebody actually be inside that? It hadn't even occurred to him, but, now that he thought about it, the idea seemed disturbingly possible. The slightly too balanced look of the scrap, the abnormal size of it… If someone had managed to carve out a stable hollow in the material, then it would be the perfect spot for someone on the street or a refugee to hide. And if someone was in there now, then… ah, shell. They weren't going to have the time to wait for backup to arrive.

Raph glanced back at him, looking almost conflicted, but his face quickly hardened. "Stay here. That's an order," Raph growled

"What? No-" he half-whispered furiously, but Raph didn't wait for his reply before hurdling off the rooftop. He used a rusted fire escape as a vault to launch himself directly beside the creature. One swipe of his sai had it backpedaling away from the spot in surprise, but it didn't stay off balance for long. Within seconds, it lunged towards its new target, and Raph was pivoting out of its reach.

Up on the roof, Don hesitated, torn between jumping down to help his brother and obeying his orders. He didn't want to stay out of this fight. He _really _didn't want to leave Raph to fight something alone after he'd all but admitted it would be a bad idea. That was why he'd stayed, after all—to provide backup until the real ones arrived. But as bad as it was to leave Raph to fight something he'd willingly radioed for help over, it would be almost as bad to jump into a fight he wasn't prepared for. He didn't know what the creatures were capable of. He'd never fought anything that was… manufactured like this before, and he didn't know what it was capable of or why its body seemed so misshapen. The last thing he wanted was to force Raph into protecting him instead.

He relaxed his weight back down on his heels, though he stayed poised on the very edge of the rooftop. Raph was a good fighter. For now, at least, he'd trust his brother's experience and knowledge of the situation. As soon as it looked like he was having trouble, though, Don was going.

For now, at least, Raph seemed to be holding his own well. He was faster than his opponent and lighter on his feet, but he was also being unusually cautious compared to how he usually fought. He was keeping his distance from the creature, using his speed to dodge the creature's clumsy physical blows and stay easily out of its reach. Raph was stalling, trying to buy time before the other group arrived.

His patience was unexpected, but not altogether surprising. Raph had always fought by diving straight in and getting close to his opponent to better use his sais. Even when it really wasn't a good plan. Still, he wasn't surprised that Raph had learned some patience, or at least tactical planning, by now.

Something moved in the shadows at the edges of the alleyway, drawing his attention, and Don leaned forward for a better angle. He caught a glimpse of something dark green, long and thin and seeming to slither slowly across the cement. It blended in with the shadows easily, but Don could make out three of the thin forms making their way behind his brother. Tracing them back, the forms led toward the two fighting forms. _Shell_. It was part of the creature—some sort of… _tentacle_-like weapon or extension, of all things. And Raph hadn't noticed it.

He didn't have to think. He just moved. Within seconds he was off the rooftop and in the air, already pulling his bō staff into his hands. Instinct took over, and he was moving before he'd even hit the ground, crushing the soft body of one of the limbs with his bō staff with one hand while the other reached into a pouch for shuriken. The sharp metal left his hand a moment later and embedded themselves along the lengths of the other two tentacles. The tissue bled a mix of dark green and red where the shuriken hit and recoiled immediately.

The creature shrieked from the injuries, but the sound was of anger more than pain. It retreated for a moment, snarling and growling and coiling its tentacles close to his body. Its eyes held no intelligence—just a blind, animalistic fury. Don was grateful for that. It wasn't anything like him, no matter what Mike had suggested about him and cloning.

"Thought I told ya to stay _out _of this, Don," Raph growled. His eyes never left the creature in front of them. The clone paused for a moment at the sound of his voice, tilting its head as if trying to understand. It probably recognized the sound of the language. Don briefly considered seeing if it would respond to orders, but Bishop would have undoubtedly programmed it so it only responded to his commands.

"You hadn't noticed the, ah, _tentacles_ sneaking up on you." It said something that, after everything he'd seen and fought, he still felt ridiculous saying the word tentacle.

Raph didn't seem to see the humor in it or appreciate his help. He was still glaring as he said, "I coulda handled it. Get back up there."

A quick glance around them provided an easy excuse. "I can't. There's no path back up there from here." Whatever sturdy handholds or outcroppings he could have used had either rotted or worn away over the years. If he was desperate, he could try to use the holes in the rotted wood and metal to climb his way out, but there was a good chance the material would be too weak to hold his weight. The fall wouldn't hurt him, but it would almost certainly leave him in a worse position in the fight.

Raph cursed again, and Don caught his head shifting slightly as he looked around them. He must have found the same thing Don had because he just growled again when he finished. They didn't have any time to figure out another solution. The creature had, apparently, gotten tired of waiting and charged them. It focused the attack on Raph, but that didn't mean Don was out of danger. Its tentacles had a far longer reach than he was used to, and Don blocked the thin limbs that darted towards him as he heard the first heavy impact between the two beside him. Closer to its body were several long, sharp claws that looked as dangerous as any sword.

Don followed Raph's lead. He stayed on the defensive, avoiding and deflecting any attacks and letting Raph position himself so he took on the bulk of the charge. It was easy to immerse himself in the fight. The familiar feel of the dark alleyway around him, the instinctual way his body reacted to each attack, the way his senses seemed to sharpen and his mind cleared… it was all achingly familiar, and he slipped into the balanced, focused mental state he'd been taught as if the past few weeks hadn't happened.

As he moved, Don felt a smile start to creep onto his face, and he didn't have the heart to repress it. He'd _missed _this. He'd missed the sharp bite of the wind and the brief, triumphant thrill every time he successfully pulled off a good blow and fighting alongside his brother, able to see the silver flash of a sai or dark green skin out of the corner of his eye. Most of all, he'd missed knowing that he was doing something right and helpful instead of being taught and protected and having to sneak knowledge just so he could catch up.

The creature was, predictably, strong. He could feel the strength in each blow as he deflected them with his bō. It was slower than they were, though not by much, and far less maneuverable. The tentacles were the most dangerous and easy to lose track of, but with the two of them they were able to keep the fight under control. Don was fairly certain that, if they pressed, they could take it down without too much of a risk, but Raph was still staying on the defensive.

A few minutes into the fight, the creature retreated for a moment, eyeing them warily from that short distance. Raph let it go, and Don followed his lead. They were fairly far away from where they'd started by then. Don was still trying to keep track of the time—it had to have been enough time for the other group to be nearly there.

Its undamaged tentacles flared up around its body and swayed lightly in the air. It looked like it was preparing for something, and Don had no clue what. He fingered his remaining shuriken as he debated trying to hit the thin appendages again, but the creature started moving again before he could decide. The tip of the tentacles swelled briefly for a moment, and Don tensed, readying his bō. The creature voiced a half-growling shout as it propelled some sort of green, viscous liquid from the tips.

He was quick enough to deflect most of it with his bō staff, but some of it still made it through to spatter against him. He hissed as the small droplets made contact. The thick liquid _burned _where it touched his skin. He quickly wiped as much as he could off of his skin, but it still left a faint, throbbing ache behind.

Shell. The creature was poisonous too. He could already feel some parts of his skin going numb as the ache faded, and he'd barely been hit with any of the fluid. Chancing a quick glance down where part of his forearm had been hit, he noticed that the skin hadn't actually been damaged, though it did look faintly irritated from the contact.

Besides him, Raph was flicking off the droplets that had landed on him with a grimace. He glanced over. "Ya okay, Don?"

"Yes. I think it's some sort of sedative." Which was dangerous in itself. Who knew how something like that would react to their biology?

Raph grunted in response, and then they both had to focus as the creature moved towards them and the fight continued. Now that the creature had accessed the poison deposits, it kept the pathways open as it fought. He had to be careful while blocking the tentacles to avoid the deep green trails that continually dripped and spattered into the air. No matter how well he blocked the attacks and dodged the residue, his skin ended up speckled with the irritating, itching burn every few blows. It wasn't even enough for him to call truly painful, but its presence did worry him. He didn't know what kind of long-term affects it could have or what it could react with, and he really didn't want to have to find out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of red and deep green and flashing silver as Raph fought beside him. Raph was starting to fight more aggressively, to take more risks so he had the chance to start striking short, shallow slices into it with every flick of his sais. Where he cut into the tentacles, poison dripped slowly out along with tis blood. Don focused on his own fight. His bō staff couldn't damage the creature the way Raph could—he didn't have the leverage to use his bō the way he normally could—but it worked well enough to keep the tentacles from attacking his brother.

The flow of the fight was interrupted by a sound—something off; a deeper, flatter tone instead of the clearer ring of a sai. He turned just in time to see Raph's shell collide with the wall behind him. He slid onto a smaller pile of scrap with a grunt of pain.

"Raph!" he shouted. He almost took a step towards his brother, but he didn't have any time to see if he was hurt. He was immediately dragged back into the fight, this time with his opponent's undivided attention. It was harder to hold his own without Raph to help, but he didn't have to do it for long. Within seconds, he heard a loud clanging sound behind him as Raph pushed himself back up. His brother forced his way back into the fight furiously, sais flashing and face snarling, and Don was relieved to see that he didn't seem to be injured by the hit.

Raph managed to score a long, deep gash into the side of the creature, and they fell into a new pattern—one slightly more aggressive, slightly more effective... and slightly more risky as well. They had to move into the creatures range to get the change to attack, and he narrowly avoided being caught by its tentacles or deadly claws several times. Little by little they were wearing it down, but he was starting to worry. It would only take one mistake, one bit of bad luck, for the creature to do a lot of damage.

Movement above them. Don didn't have much of a chance to glance up, so he only caught sight of flickers of shadows on the rooftops above them. He really, really hoped it wasn't the Foot. A small handful of humans almost immediately landed on the other side of the creature, making just enough noise to draw its attention. Don tensed at the sight of them, but there was no sign of the Foot symbol on the dark clothing they wore. They were some of theirs.

The creature paused for a moment as it inspected the new arrivals, glancing quickly from one person to the next. Don lowered his bō a few inches as he did the same. A strong hand grabbed his shoulder and tugged him backwards, and Don followed the familiar grip. For a moment, he met Raph's eyes, and Don gave a short nod at the sharp look he received. He wouldn't try to get involved in the rest of it—he didn't need to. At the acknowledgement, Raph moved closer to the circle, sai at the ready, though he didn't join them.

Two more Rebels landed in front of them, on their side of the creature. They must have waited to jump until he and Raph were far enough away not to risk startling them into an attack—considerate of them. All of them—five in all—carried bladed weapons. Most of them were shorter, more knife than sword, but one of them was holding what looked like a full sized katana. At some unspoken signal, they started to move.

He could easily tell they had experience with this. They worked together well, smoothly transitioning from person to person and dancing out of reach of every attack before it could get into range. Whenever the creature would focus its attacks on one or two of the Rebels, the people on the other side would slice at its back until it twisted furiously around to focus on them and the cycle continued. They were good—quick. Maybe not as good as the Foot Elite he'd known had been or his brothers even as teenagers, but skilled nonetheless. More than anything, they didn't take risks.

Don had to wonder how many of Bishop's creatures they'd had to fight before perfecting that strategy, and how many unpleasant attacks they'd been surprised by to make that kind of caution necessary. The poison-spitting tentacles couldn't have been the only dangerous addition they'd stumbled across. With the kind of tech they had available, he could imagine how simple it would be to hide some nasty surprises.

Don watched how they wore the creature down carefully. Each person only had time for a few thin, shallow cuts each time, but they were starting to build up. The creature was visibly starting to tire. It was moving slower, almost sluggishly and was steadily bleeding thin lines of blood from dozens of fine cuts. Each bout only damaged it more, slowly enough that it didn't realize its predicament until it was too late.

It finally charged one of the fighters at full speed, completely ignoring the rest of his attackers even as they gave him new cuts, in one last, furious attack. The rebels seemed to have expected it. As the creature came almost within grabbing range, one of the fighters it was ignoring stepped forward and smoothly lifted his blade. The creature didn't even glance at him as he struck—a quick, neat slice through the side of its neck. It was dead almost before it hit the ground.

Don flinched at the sight, but he forced himself not to look away. This was… Life was different now, and he needed to get used to it. He needed to learn how to deal with the harsher pace of life, even if he couldn't be part of it yet. Blood began to puddle beneath the new corpse, and he could see the milky green strands of poison coiling through it. He finally let himself look away, sickened.

The other five gathered closer together—checking each other for injuries, maybe. Don rubbed his fingertips against the irritated skin where small droplets of the poison had landed. Still nothing worse than the small spots of numbness, but he'd feel better after he had a chance to wash all of it off. His eyes were drawn back to the middle of the alleyway where the body still laid and the poison gathering around it.

"What do we do with it?" he asked. They couldn't just leave it there where anyone could stumble upon it.

Raph shrugged. "Toss it in a dump, most likely. One a the scientists'll probably want ta harvest the poison and anythin' dangerous 'for that." Raph rubbed his forehead, grimacing, and Don didn't miss the way his face tightened in what seemed like pain.

Now that he was closer, something seemed off about Raph. It was nothing obvious, nothing he could put his finger on, but something was making Raph seem slightly… off balanced, he supposed. Raph wasn't holding himself quite the way he normally did. His footing wasn't quite as stable or his movements as sure

"Are you okay?" He took another step closer. The night was dark enough it was hard to see whether he was injured or not.

Raph nodded and visibly tried to strengthen his stance, but his legs betrayed him. He stumbled, just barely managing to get his arm out in time to catch himself on the wall next to him. Don was beside him in half a stride, automatically reaching out to steady his brother. He hesitated for a moment before making contact, uncertain how Raph would react, and then moved that last inch.

Immediately, he noticed that Raph's skin felt warmer than usual and weak tremors shook his body. A thin trickle of blood trailed down from his shoulder from a short, jagged cut—almost certainly a result of his collision with the scrap pile, it was too uneven to be from the fight—but it wasn't even deep enough to need stitches. Nowhere near bad enough to make him stumble like that. He brushed his finger lightly around the wound anyway, trying to figure out if he'd missed something, and his fingertip tingled painfully as he pulled it away.

His eyes widened in shock, and he bent down to get a closer look at the cut, praying that he was wrong. He wasn't. Up against the wound he could see faint traces of too-light green and the darkened, irritated skin surrounding it. Some had even dripped inside the wound. Don immediately tried to remove as much of it as he could, ignoring the way the tingling on his skin turned into burning, but it didn't seem to help. Whatever it was had to have already gotten into the exposed muscle.

Raph tried to push him away with his other hand. "'M find, Don," he said. "Just gimme a minute."

"I don't think you are," Don said distractedly, only half focusing on the conversation. He had more important problems to worry about.

Raph followed his gaze down to the gash on his arm and the faint traces of green around it. "Aw, shit," he said. He let his head fall back against the wall behind him with a muffled thump. "_Shit._"

Even with the wall at his back, Raph's knees were starting to buckle. Don helped steady him as he slid to the ground. Some of the scattered rubble behind them crunched as something moved closer, and Don looked over his shoulder to see one of the Rebels moving closer. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Don was, with dark hair and sharp brown eyes. Don recognized him and the sword at his side as the one who'd struck the killing blow. His face was tight with matching worry.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked, crouching down nearby so they were at eye level.

"Some of the poison got inside his wound," Don answered quietly.

The man muttered a curse, and Don tuned him out to focus on his brother. His heartbeat was still strong, and though it was noticeably faster than normal, it wasn't dangerously so. His breathing was the same. Uncontrolled tremors still wracked his body and his muscle coordination was shot, but the rest of his vitals weren't at dangerous levels. Yet.

As he worked, the Rebel was watching him almost contemplatively. "You have medical training?" he asked when Don paused for a moment.

"I… wouldn't exactly call it _training, _but I have some experience," he said. He was intimately familiar with the basics, but poisons… Poisons were different. Even among humans it was an imprecise, broad field, and his family's unique biology only made it even more unpredictable.

The man scoffed lightly and sent a quick, concerned glance at Raph. "More than any of us then. Do you know what we need to do?"

Don thought for a moment, forcing himself to think clearly about what needed to happen. "Samples," he decided. "We need to collect a sample of the poison from the body. It'll help determine what's… what's going wrong. His vitals, at least, are stable enough."

A silent signal passed between the group of humans, and one of them moved over to the corpse to get the sample. Of the remaining three, the one closest to him still had his weapon out, and the rest of them had hands lingering suspiciously close to their weapons. They didn't trust him. Don ignored it—so long as they didn't act on their suspicion or try to keep him away from Raph, it didn't matter.

He needed to focus on what he could control. First things first, they needed to get Raph back to the base. They didn't have any of the tools he would need to help Raph with them, and there was too much of a risk of running into an enemy they couldn't afford to fight if they lingered too long. Leaning down, he swung one of Raph's arms over his shoulder and levied them both upright. If they pushed themselves, they could be back within ten minutes.

Raph was heavy, and, though he was still aware and muttering a quiet, continuous stream of profanity under his breath, he barely had enough coordination left to help support his weight. One of the Rebels—a young woman, he realized with a closer look at her face—bent down beside him and took hold of his other side. Together, they were able to half-support, half-carry Raph closer to the rest of the group without too much trouble. Don had to adjust his stride to match hers, though the first couple steps still sent him slightly off-balance before he got used to her longer footsteps.

The man who had spoken to him earlier had a radio in his hand and was speaking in quiet, clipped sentences to someone at the other end. As he put the radio back into a small pack at his side, he motioned to the rest of them, and they started to move. The other four Rebels fell into a loose circle around Raph, keeping him protected in case they ran into something else. Don could feel Raph shaking against him and the clammy, heated feel of his skin, and he prayed they wouldn't run into anything else. They were too vulnerable like this, and he wasn't sure Raph would be able to take the delay. Thankfully, the sky and buildings around them were clear, and they moved quickly, silently through the night.

* * *

~.*.~

**AN:** So… yeah. Raph's poisoned now, and we get an actual plot arc coming up ahead. At least this didn't take as long as last chapter, but it did have me stumped for a while. Next chapter will hopefully be easier and quicker to get out, but I'm planning on setting my deadline at two months at the latest, though hopefully I'll finish sooner than that. Thanks to anyone still reading, and particularly to anyone taking the time to review :).


	12. Bishop

And so It Goes ch 12

Bishop

…

_Only in silence the word,  
only in dark the light,  
only in dying life:  
bright the hawk's flight_

_on the empty sky._

- Ursula K. Le Guin , "A Wizard Of Earthsea"

…

When they finally arrived, Mike was waiting for them, pacing impatiently back and forth just inside the entrance. Don hesitated when he caught sight of him, nearly overbalancing as the woman helping him carry Raph tried to continue moving without him.

They'd radioed ahead when they were still a few minutes out to let them know there'd been an injury. Don hadn't recognized the code they'd used to describe it, but he could guess. Unknown poison. Stable, but rapidly losing motor control. He didn't need to understand the code to know the symptoms. They pushed themselves as hard as they could getting back and made better time than he'd expected. They'd gotten lucky—none of the Foot or Utrom patrols had crossed paths with them, save for a single patrolling helicopter that had delayed them for no more than half a minute.

When they finally arrived, Don's arms were just starting to ache under his brother's weight, and heat from his brother's prone form had begun to burn against his skin. Raph was just barely clinging to consciousness by then. His eye weakly flickered open at the change in motion when they came to a stop. Mike's eyes immediately settled where Raph was being supported between the two of them, and he immediately strode over, his face a blank, furious mask.

"What. Happened," he hissed, eyes roaming over their brother with well-concealed concern.

The man who'd struck the killing blow stepped forward. "The Rogue was one of the poisonous types. Some of it got inside an open wound. "

Mike cursed. He moved closer to Raph, grimly eying the injury and symptoms a second time, and cursed again. Don was so focused on Mike that he didn't even notice Leatherhead until the crocodile came up beside him and moved to take Raph's weight from him. Don flinched and turned, already twisting to better shield his brother, before relaxing at the sight of one of the few people he knew he could trust. Leatherhead hesitated for a moment at the movement but continued when Don motioned him back. Leatherhead hefted Raph's weight up into his own arms, carrying him far easier than they'd been able to. His eyes were already scanning Raph's body as he cataloged any injury or symptom he could find.

Leatherhead almost immediately turned and started walking away, likely headed to one of the infirmaries or labs where he'd have tools to work with. After a short glance at Mike, who was still conversing animatedly with the man and shooting Raph near-constant, worried glances, Don followed Leatherhead and his mostly unconscious brother. Leatherhead looked down at him but didn't protest his presence.

As they were leaving the room, Leatherhead spoke. "Did any get on you?" he asked quietly,

Don unconsciously rubbed at one of the still numb spots along his arm. He'd nearly forgotten about them. "Some. It's shown nothing worse than some numbness though."

"Head to one of the showers and scrub the remnants off."

Don grimaced at the order but resigned himself to obeying it. It was a good suggestion, no matter how much he hated the thought of leaving Raph even for a minute. He didn't know what kind of effect the substance would have if left untreated, and he didn't want to find out.

"I'll join you after I've finished," he said, challenging the other to contradict him. It didn't matter whether or not they decided he had the authorization to help. He'd hack the door and force his way in if he had to, but he was not going to let himself be shut out of this.

Leatherhead paused, weighing the decision. "Very well. We'll be in the back section of the main labs."

Don nodded and, with one last glance at his brothers, turned and started sprinting down a hallway. He didn't bother heading to of the few places where the piping had been reinforced enough to handle warm water or actual showers. Too far away. Instead, he made a beeline for one of the nearby rooms with a basic working faucet. It was empty when he arrived, and the half-rusted handle turned easily enough for him. Grabbing a small scrap of fabric, he started cleaning his skin. Small traces of dirt and the silvery toxin clouded the water that dripped off of him, and he continued scrubbing until the water ran clean again.

He did a thorough, if rushed, wash of his entire body before tossing the rag in a scrap pile and immediately racing towards the lab. He barely even noticed the occasional, startled Rebel he nearly ran over. The door to the room was unlocked, and he immediately pushed past it and entered the lab. Raph had been laid out on an examination table in the center of the room, and the human scientists rushed around him, touching and testing and carrying metallic tools. The sight was enough to send every instinct in his body screaming, and he had to stop himself from jumping over and pushing the strange humans away from his nearly unconscious brother. Much as he'd been conditioned to hate being cornered by human scientists, they were there to help.

Leatherhead looked up at his entrance and beckoned him over to one of the far corners. He'd barely taken two steps inside before movement at the corner of his eye brought his attention to Mike, who'd been half hidden along the darker edge of the wall. Mike looked up from where he'd been focused on the near motionless form of their older brother at the sound, and his eyes narrowed.

"What's he doing here?" he accused as soon as they were close enough he wouldn't disturb the others.

Don met his eyes head on, refusing to give an inch. "Helping."

Mike's face darkened again, taking on a now familiar stubborn expression. "You're not supposed to-"

"I hardly think I'll find any important secrets hidden under a microscope."

Mike looked like he was gearing up for another argument about his limits, and Don reluctantly steeled himself for it. It really, _really _wasn't the time for this, but it didn't look like Mike was going to give him the choice. He was surprised when Leatherhead walked up behind him and looked at Mike from over his shoulder.

As he spoke, the crocodile angled his body subtly until he was half between the two of them. "I'll personally make sure he isn't given access to anything potentially dangerous," he said.

Mike glanced between them, eyes narrowed, and for the first time Don noticed the lines of stress and weariness that had been etched into his face since the last time he'd seen him. The danger to Raph had to be hitting him hard too. Don shouldn't have been surprised that Mike might lash out in his fear and anger, even if the old Mikey never would have. It wasn't much of an excuse, but it did help Don ignore some of his anger at him.

Leatherhead interrupted the still tense moment by silently steering Don towards some equipment in the back of the room, far away from where Mike still stood. A vial was handed to him, a quarter full of a dark, viscous liquid Don immediately recognized as blood. He held it gingerly with one hand as Leatherhead spoke.

"I assume you're familiar with the unique composition of you and your brother's blood. You can be responsible for searching for anything that seems out of place, no matter how small or unrelated it seems. Blood tests haven't changed much, and any chemicals you should need are stored in one of the cupboards." He gestured towards a scattering of wooden cabinets to their side. "Be careful. Bishop's known for his creativity, and he hides his secrets well."

Don nodded, and Leatherhead immediately turned to join the rest of the scientists clustered around Raph, leaving Don alone with his assignment. Don quickly moved towards the cabinets, taking out the tools and chemicals he was going to need, and got to work.

…

One day passed. Two. No change.

Once blood had been drawn and physical examination thoroughly exhausted, Raph had been moved to a more comfortable cot in the medical wing. Don stayed in the labs every waking moment, and the only reason he left to sleep was because Leatherhead forced him to. If he'd had his way, he would have just napped on a spare cot whenever exhaustion got the better of him. Once or twice, he'd visited Raph's unconscious body to reassure himself his brother was still stable, but he hadn't lingered. His time was better spent working towards an antidote instead.

They had managed to identify parts of the compound and its effect, but it wasn't enough. The compound had been fast acting, and it had broken down into the bloodstream as soon as it'd fulfilled its purpose. The good news was, with the compound fully dissolved, they were sure it wouldn't do any more harm to Raph's body. The bad news was they'd barely had a chance to study it in action before it disappeared. He'd managed to identify a handful of proteins with an unusually low blood count and even some he knew were associated with breaking down certain types of proteins, but there was nothing to connect them or even suggest why Raph was still unconscious.

They needed more information. Desperately. Unfortunately, even the poison still in the mutant's body had disintegrated by the time someone had gone back to take care of it. They'd already analyzed every scrap of information and performed every test he could think of, and it still wasn't _enough._ He and Leatherhead were the only people still in the lab, so Don allowed some of his frustration to leak out. He let a dirty clipboard he'd been holding slam onto one of the counters, shoving a microscope carelessly out of the way so he could bury his face in his hands.

"Why?" he asked, slightly more desperately than he'd intended. "Why won't any of this _work. _It's all dead ends and false leads, and I don't-" He growled in frustration, punctuating the sound with the loud smack of flesh and metal as he hit the table.

Leatherhead put down the beaker he'd been holding and walked over. Don knew the scientist had to be almost as frustrated as he was, but the crocodile didn't show it. He seemed almost calm as he spoke. "Bishop has had years to master the art of biological warfare, and Shredder has far more impressive resources to counter his attacks than we do. Much as I hate to admit it, we are at a grave disadvantage."

"Why not ask him for the compound then? We're allies now, aren't we?" Strange as it was to think about being allied with the Government scientist who'd once tried to dissect them, that had been the impression he'd gotten. And if there was a chance they could get an antidote or, hell, even information about the compound's composition and intended effect, then why hadn't they contacted him earlier?

Leatherhead hesitated before answering. Not a good sign.

"There's a reason we have so little to do with Bishop and his organization," he said carefully. "We deal with very different tactics regarding Shredder, and we have often come into conflict with his group, even if it's never fallen into any physical confrontation. If Bishop could get the shielding protecting the Shredder down, he would blow up the entire city and everyone inside it without a second thought." He sighed, his eyes faraway. "Sacrifices must be made, and they have been, but we are not yet so far gone to condone Bishop's more extreme plans. Even if we don't have the strength to oppose his actions as well as the Shredder's."

Any other time, and that info and the convoluted politics it hinted at would have been fascinating. Now, though, it was just another obstacle and one Don refused to let stop him.

"But Bishop has the information we need," Don stated, already knowing the answer. He didn't wait for a response. "We have to contact him."

"It will put us in his debt."

"I don't care."

Leatherhead made a frustrated sound, "There are politics at work here you do not understand."

Don was so sick of that excuse by now. Sick of his opinion and skills being brushed off because of all that he'd missed, never mind that he could still learn everything and _had _been. He bit his tongue to stop from voicing an automatic, cutting response. He forced himself to stay calm and rational. Pure emotion wouldn't convince anyone, but logic just might.

"Is that risk worth losing Raph?"

If he hadn't been watching him so closely, Don might have missed the slight, telling tremor in Leatherhead's hands at that. "I… no, you're right. Losing Raph would be an enormous blow." He visibly steadied himself. "But we can't rely on Bishop for anything."

Don started to speak again, but Leatherhead interrupted him before he could even get started. "Give it a day. Just one more day. If we've still made no progress… then I'll have no choice but to at least bring the option up with April and Mike."

Don didn't like it. It had already been two days with no real progress, and even if the poison didn't seem to be doing anything more insidious than keeping Raph in a coma-like state, they had no way of knowing that it wasn't doing something more permanent that they couldn't detect. It was a risk, and one he _hated_ to take, but he had no better option.

"Alright," he finally said.

He just had to hope Raph wouldn't get worse before they could find the cure. And that Bishop would be willing to help them. If not… he would break into Bishop's labs himself if he had to, but he would much prefer not to take the chance.

…

Twenty four hours later and they were just as lost as when Raph had first been brought in. He hadn't needed to bring the deal up with Leatherhead. Instead, the scientist had all but locked himself in a room with Mike and April to convince them to contact Bishop. It was the first time Leatherhead hadn't met him in the lab to work. After that, there had been some sort of meeting between the command positions, which he, of course, hadn't been allowed to witness.

The communications console they would use was locked in one of the rooms he hadn't previously been authorized to enter. Undoubtedly, the console contained all sorts of passwords and transmissions information Shredder would just love to get his hands on, meaning that, though he would be allowed in the room, Don still wasn't allowed to touch anything remotely technical.

The others were already in the room when he entered with Leatherhead. Of the nearly dozen people Don knew had been involved in the meeting, only Mike, April, and a man he didn't recognize had come. They'd gathered in side of the room and spoke in murmured voices, but that wasn't what drew Don's attention. No, that honor was saved for the large contraption in the center of the room.

It was an elaborate setup, surrounded by bundles of wires and jury-rigged energy sources. A large monitor made up the front of the machine, and a tangled mass of mostly hidden wiring and machinery laid behind it. The circuitry peeking through the sides was obviously high quality and impeccably clean. Most of the mechanism had to be some sort of security measure to keep the signal from being hacked or even detected by the Foot. His hands absolutely _itched_ to touch.

As he was inspecting the console, he caught Mike glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes and frowning. Don moved back a bit farther away from the machine, trying to seem as unnoticeable as possible. He was just staring at the shiny tech in front of him. Nothing to worry about, and definitely nothing to send him out of the room over.

As Mike passed by him, he said, "Just stay out of sight. We can't let Bishop find out about you."

Don nodded. He had no intention of speaking with Bishop on a whim. Not only would that be a frankly stupid risk to take without a good reason, but he didn't even understand the nuances of the strained relationship between the two groups. So long as Mike didn't try to kick him out, he would be fine.

One of the Rebels he didn't recognize did something to the front of the console, and the machine started to glow with power, a familiar artificial glow that bathed the entire room. Almost a full stress-filled minute passed before the connection was made and an image flickered to life. The picture was slightly grainy and the audio had a slight undertone of static, but the quality was still miles above what Don would have expected from an underground transmission. After a moment, the monitor resolved itself into a more or less clear image. Bishop stared out at them.

Bishop looked… almost exactly the same as they last time they'd met. The shell? Thirty years later, and he still looked to be in his mid-twenties, the prime of his life. Bishop had no wrinkles, no visible scars, heck, even his impeccable clothing had barely changed. The material was slightly frayed and of worse quality, but at first glance it was close enough for Don to feel like he was looking back in time. If this was normal, then no wonder Mike had suggested Bishop could be involved in his reappearance. Don definitely had new questions for them for after Raph was healed.

The screen on Bishop's end was purposefully facing an empty corner—expected, considering what he knew about the relationship between the two groups. Still, Don could see that the room was immaculately clean, free from the grime or rust he might have expected. If he had to guess, he'd have to say it was some sort of lab to require such thorough sterility.

"Bishop," Mike greeted coldly. At the first glimpse of the former Agent's face, Mike's entire body had stiffened, and he'd fallen back into something that was very nearly a fighting stance. If he still needed a clearer sign of the animosity between the two, that was it.

Bishop inclined his head briefly. He didn't even twitch at the obvious hostility. "Michelangelo. Such a surprise to hear from you."

Even Bishop's voice was the same. Just as annoyingly formal as he remembered, absolutely dripping with false sincerity and smooth confidence. It brought him back to the last time Don had seen Bishop, back when the world still made sense.

Bishop's voice didn't seem to bother Mike at all. He was probably used to the sound. "We had a run in with another one of your Rogues. One of your poisonous ones," Mike said stiffly.

"I hardly see how this concerns m-"

"It got Raph."

No emotion passed across Bishop's face, but the brief hesitation before his answer spoke of his surprise. "My… condolences," he said with something that could almost pass as actual sincerity. Almost.

Mike bristled. "He's not dead yet," he said through gritted teeth.

Bishop nodded. "Ah, yes, one of the non-lethal ones. At least directly." He paused, giving them a decidedly bored glance. "And for what reason have you contacted me?"

"We need you're… help," Mike spat out, as if the words were physically painful to voice. "We can't crack the compound. You have the information we need."

Don could have sworn that the side of Bishop's lips turned upwards slightly at the admission, as if Bishop was smug about what had happened. The vindictive pest was probably pleased to have Mike forced to come to him.

"While it would be my pleasure to help you, I'm afraid I cannot be of assistance," Bishop said smoothly, not sounding very displeased at all. Don immediately wanted to strangle him. "Considering the sheer volume of compounds I've developed over the year, I can hardly be expected to have developed a cure for each one. Besides, I'm sure your _unique_ physiology has rendered any knowledge of its intended effects rather useless. "

Mike clenched his fist, visibly angry at the condescending way Bishop was denying them. "It won't cost you anything to give us the info, and it could make a difference with our research."

"Information is valuable, Michelangelo. More valuable than you seem to give it credit for," Bishop said calmly. He leaned forward in his seat, cutting off Mike's retort before it was even voiced. "You have nothing to trade. And you have made it _quite _obvious that you wish nothing to do with my projects."

Oh, there was a story there. Something in the too-pleased look on Bishop's face and the way he seemed to be outright enjoying blocking Mike. This wasn't just a power game. This was revenge. For what, Don didn't know, but he could hazard a guess.

"You-," Mike started, looking just as furious as Don felt. He took an aborted step toward the screen, muscles clenched tight. "Dammit, Bishop, you know the only reason the Foot hasn't wiped your operation off the map is because he never stopped obsessing over the blood feud he still has with our clan. If Raph dies, that's one less target to taking the heat away from you."

"I think you'd be surprised by how advanced my operation has become."

Don could barely hear the next few exchanges over the roar of blood in his ears as he futilely tried to calm his temper. He'd spent the last nearly sleepless days struggling without success to find a cure while his brother laid in a coma a few rooms down. He'd already reached his limits—physically, emotionally, _everything_—and Bishop was just standing there, toying carelessly with them.

He couldn't just wait there anymore. Bishop and Mike were arguing in circles now, exchanging threats and cryptic comments and arguments that led nowhere. Bishop even seemed to be enjoying pushing Mike to his limits. Never mind that Raph's life was on the line or that Bishop's refusal to negotiate would only hurt him as well. Well, if Bishop wasn't willing to deal with Mike, then maybe he would have more luck.

Don had promised himself he wouldn't take any unnecessary risk.

This wasn't unnecessary.

Don stepped away from the wall, moving purposefully towards the screen. One of the humans made a grab for his arm, but Don easily shook him off. He smoothly inserted himself between Mike and the screen, well within sight of the camera transmitting to the other end.

"Bishop," he said coolly. His voice was loud as a gunshot in the suddenly dead silent room.

Mike made a strangled noise behind him. Don could almost picture the half-surprised, half-infuriated look on his face, but Mike thankfully didn't try to yank him out of sight. It was too late anyway. Bishop had already seen.

Bishops face froze at the sight, though he immediately suppressed the briefest flicker of surprise he'd let slip. "Donatello," he said slowly, as if tasting the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. "How… unexpected. And not a day older than the last time I laid eyes on you."

Don ignored the obvious probe for information. He wasn't going to play Bishop's game. They didn't have the time. "So it seems," he bit out curtly. "You know what I want."

"Yes, yes, the compound," Bishop said, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. "You're not changing the topic that easily. No, this is a far more… _fascinating _matter."

Don could see a glimmer of greed hidden in his eyes, the tone of his voice. After everything, Bishop was still a scientist, and he wanted the knowledge. Good. Don could use that.

"Forgive me for not being willing to indulge your curiosity, but I have more important problems to worry about," he said, dangling the information out of reach just as calmly as Bishop had. It took everything he had to keep his tone calm and expression relaxed.

Bishop tisked at him and leaned back into his chair, shaking his head slowly in disappointment as if preparing to chastise a misbehaving child. "As I told your… _brother,_ I do not even possess the cures for all the compounds I've developed."

"But you do have the chemical makeup and intended effect. You wouldn't be careless enough not to keep records of everything you add to your soldiers. Once we know that, we should be able to synthesize a counteragent with the information," Don countered. Bishop must have already known that—he really was a talented scientist, much as Don hated to admit it. Bishop was still just toying with them. Unacceptable.

Bishop inclined his head. "True. However, you're assuming I'd willingly allow your Rebellion access to the research I've created."

"You've no reason not to. Both our goals are the same—overthrowing Shredder—and surrendering the secret to curing one of your compounds will hardly endanger your operation. You've little, if anything, to lose by cooperating with us."

If he'd hoped that would be enough, he would have been sorely disappointed. Bishop didn't even twitch. Then again, he hadn't actually expected Bishop to give in that easily. Mike had given essentially the same argument, and it had been unlikely that Bishop would accept it just because it came from a different source. He'd just needed to remind the Agent of exactly how little he had to lose.

"You'll have to do better than that, Donatello," Bishop, predictably, said. "His life is worth far more to you than it is to me."

"A trade, then. Answers for answers. Else you'll never find out what we know about my reappearance." He knew what Bishop was like. His presence was an unsolved mystery, and Bishop was the type of person that the unknown would chip away at his mind.

For the first time since the call began, Bishop lost his air of smug superiority. Don caught an annoyed twitch in his expression, a slight narrowing of his eyes. A few moments of silence passed before Bishop replied, and Don could practically see Bishop's mind churning as he tried to find a way to turn the situation in his favor again.

"I'm afraid there's one more problem with your proposition. I refuse to send any of my secrets over such an… unsecure line."

A minor obstacle, and one with a readily apparent solution. Don felt his heart jump. Bishop was actually considering giving in. "Then I'll come to you," he said decisively. There was nothing Bishop could reject about that solution.

The slight hint of stress that had been on Bishop's face smoothed away, and some of his previous smugness returned. Don got the distinct impression Bishop had just won something in their battle of words, though he wasn't sure exactly what.

"You're in luck. I'm currently stationed inside New York state, so you're plan is actually feasible." He glanced back towards where Mike was standing, a smirk curling at his lips. "I'm sure you're… _brother_ is aware of where the precise location is. If you come, then I expect you to answer whatever questions I have about your… reappearance."

An easy enough trade. Don just hoped that Bishop wouldn't decide they'd tricked him once he realized how little Don actually knew about his reappearance. That could get dangerous.

"I will willingly answer what I can, though even I don't have all the answers." He paused before adding, "_After _you let me have access to the data I need."

"You don't trust my word?" He chuckled indulgently. "Smart of you." "As you're well aware, my time is precious and I've spent more than enough of it indulging you in your quest. I'll expect your presence before the end of the week. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to assume the deal's off."

Don nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief as the screen flickered back offline, feeling as if a weight had just been lifted from his chest. He'd done it. Now that Bishop would give them the data, they had a chance at fixing Raph again. Bishop hadn't even asked for anything as much as he'd expected—if it had been necessary, he would have willingly given up far, far more for his brother.

He turned around to the rest of the room, only to be met by Mike practically drilling holes in the back of his head with fury. He was glaring furiously, entire body tense and looking like he was about ready to punch someone. This… wasn't good. Shell.

"Mike-" Don started uncertainly. His brother didn't even let him finish the word.

"No."

Frustration twinged in the back of Don's mind at the rejection. It let him speak a bit stronger as he tried again.

"I can-"

"Dammit, _no,_" Mike half-shouted, interrupting him again. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you head to one of _Bishop's _labs."

Mike meant it. Don recognized the bullheaded set to his face, though he'd rarely seen the expression on Mikey's face. Mike was honestly going to fight him on this. Don… didn't understand it. He'd managed to negotiate a solution after Mike had failed, so why the shell was Mike trying to reject it! Did he really distrust him so much that he'd cripple their chances of fixing Raph before letting him have access to the info he needed?

"Well, what would you have us do instead!" Don half-shouted. "Would you really let your _paranoia_ over my existence stop us from healing Raph?"

Shock flickered over Mike's face for a moment. "That's not what I-" He stopped himself, scowling. "We can't trust _Bishop_ to keep his word. He's screwed us over before."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

He was. He'd been given a chance to find a cure. Not even Mike was going to stop him from going. He knew Bishop was dangerous—that definitely hadn't changed over the years—but there was also a good chance Bishop would be satisfied with the info Don gave him. Besides, there just wasn't that much for him to gain by breaking their deal. He might be able to negotiate a better trade from him for the info, but that wouldn't be too risky compared to other things they'd faced.

"And what's to stop him from strapping you down and running his own experiments as soon as you arrive?" Mike asked, gesturing wildly. "You're not going. Especially not alone."

Don was already mentally organizing his arguments, laying out the many reasons he needed to go and refused to stay at base. He was interrupted as Leatherhead stepped up beside him, laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I can accompany him," Leatherhead said.

Mike looked about as surprised as Don felt at Leatherhead's announcement. His jaw started to drop before he could stop it, and his eyes widened. His face quickly hardened again though, hiding his surprise and what might have been a hint of betrayal. Don… certainly hadn't been expecting Leatherhead to step in, but it would be a tidy solution to most of the problems. Besides, he'd definitely appreciate having someone he could trust watching his back.

Mike didn't agree with him. "No," he repeated, to Leatherhead this time. "You're still needed here."

Leatherhead shook his head and continued just as calmly. "Losing my assistance for a few days will do far less damage than losing Raphael would. You agreed to speak with Bishop because you knew it's likely our only chance of getting Raphael back. That hasn't changed. Besides, I'm sure you'll appreciate having someone to watch over Donatello while he's within Bishop's influence."

He said the last sentence with an interesting inflection, which Don didn't have the time to analyze. Mike's firm determination wavered for a moment as he searched Leatherhead's face, but it quickly settled back into its previous resolve. He was about to refuse them again when April stepped forward, moving into Mike's line of sight.

"They're right," she said quietly, a hint of steel determination underlying her words.

Mike spun around towards April in surprise. The hint of betrayal in his eyes grew slightly more pronounced. "You can't possibly be agreeing with them! You know what Bishop's capable of doing to them!"

"Of course I do," she said. "But I also know Bishop's intelligent, and he would know that he has far more to lose than gain by hurting either of them. He'll push them as far as he can and milk every last drop of information he can get, but he won't risk causing any harm. He wouldn't break the truce over something like this."

Mike stared at her for a moment, searching her face for something. A confirmation, maybe, or some sign that April was uncertain about her prediction. He finally glanced away, conflicted.

"I… fine. _Fine_," Mike spat, looking thoroughly disgusted._ "_Have it your way, but the two of you damn well better return in one piece and with a cure in hand."

With that, Mike turned and stalked out of the room, leaving silence behind him.

…

They didn't have much time to waste before needing to leave, and he spent much of that time with Leatherhead in the labs carefully packing equipment and samples for the journey ahead. They finished with only half an hour until sunset. Don slipped away from Leatherhead and the other scientists as they congregated around one of the machines, murmuring quietly. Leatherhead's gaze caught him as he was about to leave the room. For a moment, he thought the crocodile would call him back or insist on him taking a guard, but Leatherhead just sent him a short, acknowledging nod and turned back to the man beside him. Don was inordinately grateful for the show of trust.

He moved through the empty halls alone, traveling the familiar path towards what passed for a medical wing. He wanted to see Raph one last time before leaving. It… seemed like the right thing to do. By now, the room should be empty of any scientists or medics, so he wasn't worried about finding the privacy he wanted.

Something made him hesitate before entering the room. Instead of moving normally, he crept into the room silently, inspection the room carefully to see what had triggered his instincts. He nearly gave himself away out of surprise when he spotted Leo nestled on the edge of a spare cot on the other side of the room from Raph's. Leo was silent, barely even glancing at their unconscious brother, but he was _there. _It was the first time he'd seen the two of them in the same room since that first day.

Leo had taken his swords out, and he was polishing one of them with long, smooth strokes. Outwardly, he seemed perfectly calm—just as composed as he'd been every other time Don had seen him. With a start, Don realized he'd barely even seen his eldest brother since Raph's injury. He'd gotten used to turning around in the lab and finding one of his older brothers silently watching him work, but the last few days had been chaotic enough he hadn't even noticed the absence of that new routine.

The sight reminded him of something—old memories he hadn't thought about in months. When they were children, whenever one of them got sick or injured Leo was almost always by their side until they were back to normal. It had taken a while for Don to catch on, particularly when they'd still been young enough to share the same large room, since Leo had never seemed to be particularly worried about it. He'd just sit nearby, meditation or reading or, sometimes, polishing his swords to pass the time. Pretending to be going about his day as usual.

But he'd always been close, almost within arm's length, as if reassuring himself that they were going to be alright. It had become a familiar habit, something to hold onto as they grew older and their injuries worse. This, now, wasn't the same, wasn't even close to the familiar, relaxed ritual from back then, but it was at least an echo of that old habit.

Don had no doubt that, had Raph been awake or his injury less severe, he wouldn't have found Leo anywhere near the room. He didn't know whether to be glad that Leo had willingly come here to watch over him or dismayed that it had taken Raph falling into a coma to get the two into the same room, and the two emotions twisted in his chest. Still, this, whatever it was, was more than he'd expected to find.

Trying not to draw Leo's attention, Don left the room as silently as he'd entered. Vague thoughts and impressions churned in his mind as he made his way back to the area he'd left the other scientists.

There was still something there—some remnant of their old relationship that time hadn't stolen. If, no, _when _Raph woke up, he needed to start pushing. It wasn't much, but it was at least _something._ And that was more than he'd had to go on over the last weeks. When he slipped back into the room with the other scientists, he felt a twinge of what might actually be _hope _rise in his chest.


End file.
